Set on You

AJOVEBOOK
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Copyright?2022byAmyLea
ExcerptfromExesandO’scopyright?2022byAmyLea
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Lea,Amy,author.
Title:Setonyou/AmyLea.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Jove,2022.
Identifiers:LCCN2021039424(print)|LCCN2021039425(ebook)|ISBN9780593336571(tradepaperback)|ISBN9780593336588(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Romancefiction.|Novels.
Classification:LCCPR9199.4.L425S482022(print)|LCCPR9199.4.L425(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2021039424
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2021039425
FirstEdition:May2022
BookdesignbyDanielBrount,adaptedforebookbyCoraWigen
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_139899378_c0_r0contents
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Author’sNote
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-One
ChapterThirty-Two
ChapterThirty-Three
ChapterThirty-Four
ChapterThirty-Five
ChapterThirty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
ExcerptfromExesandO’s
AbouttheAuthorToeveryonewhorarelyseesthemselvesrepresentedinbooksandmovies.Toeveryonewhodoesn’tconformtomainstreambeautystandards.Youareworthyofanepiclovestory.Weallare.author’snote
Dearreader,
Ican’tthankyouenoughforchoosingmydebutromanticcomedy,SetonYou,asyournextread.Whilethisbookiswritteninalight,humorous,andsarcasticstyle,IwouldberemissifIdidnotprovidecontentwarningsformyreadersregardingtheseriousissuesitexplores:fatphobia,cyberbullying,andreferencestoracism,fitness/dietculture,andcancer.
Crystal’sjourneyasacurvy,biracialChinesewomanisonesingle,fictionalexperience,filteredthroughmyownworldviewasaChineseCanadianwhogrewupinapredominantlywhitecommunity.
Icannotunderscoreenoughhowimportantitistodepictheroinesofallmarginalizationswhopracticeself-loveandbodypositivity,particularlyinromance.Similarly,Crystalisn’taheroinewhoneedstolearntoloveandrespectherself,becauseshealreadydoes.Thatbeingsaid,thisbookexploresthenuance—the“in-between”—thatself-loveisnotatangiblethingyouachieveandholdontoforever.Lovingoneselfallday,everydayisanindividualjourney,withvastlydifferentoutcomesforeveryone.
InSetonYou,Itriedtoavoiddepictionsoftheunhealthysideoffitnessculture.Crystalisanadvocateofworkingoutandliftingweightsasoneofmanymeanstolivingahealthyandbalancedlifestyleanddoesnotcountcaloriesorkeeptrackofherweight.However,theverythemeoffitnessandgymculturemaybetriggeringtosomereaders.
Asyoureadinthededication,thisbookismylovelettertoanyonewho,likemyself,doesn’toftenseethemselvesrepresentedinmainstreammedia.Inanindustrythatisstarvedforrepresentation,Idonottakethisresponsibilitylightlyandhaveconsultedbetaandsensitivityreaderswhilewritingthisbook.Thatbeingsaid,IamnotperfectandIemphasizethatthefictionalexperiencesportrayedarenotintendedtobeprescriptive,orrepresentativeofasinglecommunityormarginalization.
Withlove,
Amychapterone
THEGYMISsupposedtobemysafeplace.TheplaceIde-stress,reenergize,andponderrandomwondersandmysteries,like:howwasIdelusionalenoughtothinkIcouldrockamiddlehairpartcirca2011?
That’swhyI’mequalpartshorrifiedandappalledthatmyTinderrebound,Joe,hassprungontothetreadmilltomyright.
Ibracemyselfforanawkward,clunkygreeting,butthankfully,hisattentionappearsfixedonthetreadmill’stouchpad.Ashepressesthedialtoincreasehisspeed,Icatchawhiffofeaudewetdog.Henot-so-subtlyglancesinmydirectionbeforeavertinghiseyes.
Sure,TinderJoewaskindenoughtoordermeanUberafterourlacklusterquarter-nightstandtwoweeksago.Butit’shighlycoincidentalwe’dendupatthesamegym,inallofBoston.Iwonderifhe’sstalkedme.MaybeIblewhismindinbed?SomuchsohewentFBIonmyass,locatedmygym,andstagedacasualrun-in?Givenmysocialmediapresence,itisn’toutoftherealmofpossibility.
Ateveryopportunity,DadwarnsmeofthedangersofpostingmywhereaboutsonInstagram,lestIbekidnappedandsoldintosexslavery,Takenstyle.ExceptDadisnoLiamNeeson.Hedoesn’thave“specialskills,”asidefromhislegendarysesamechickenrecipe.AndsolongastheExcaliburFitnessCentercontinuestosponsormymembershipinexchangeforpromotiononmyInstagram,I’mwillingtoriskit.
TinderJoeandIlockeyesonceagainasIcatchmybreathpost–sprintinterval.OursharedgazelaststwosecondslongerthancomfortableandIcan’thelpbutnoticehowhisperfectlycoifedboy-bandhairremainssuspiciouslyintactwitheachgiraffe-likestride.Whetherhestalkedmehereornot,myfirstinstinctistofleethescene.
SoIdo.
ItakerefugeintheGymBroZone,akathestrength-trainingarea.
Asagymregular,IexchangerespectfulnodswiththeotherpatronsasIenter.Afamiliarcrowdof’roid-pumpingfratboysloitersnearthebenchpresseswhilesimultaneouslychuggingwheyproteinshakeslikethey’reonthebrinkofdehydration.Today,they’redonningthosecringeyneontanktopsthathangtoolowundertheirarmpits.Totheircredit,they’renothingifnotdevotedtotheirdailyroutines.Andaftercatchingaglimpseofmysweaty,tomato-facedselfinthewall-to-wallmirrorunderharshfluorescentlighting,I’mnotinanypositiontojudge.
Aguyman-splayingonthebenchpressgruntsexcessively,chuckingasetofdumbbellstothefloorwithaloudthud.Normallythiswouldgrindmygears,butI’mtoobusyboundingtowardamajesticsighttocare.Mytreasuredsquatrackisfree.Praisebe.
Thewindowsquatrackisoneofexactlytworacksinthisfacility.Itboastsascenicviewofagrungynightclubacrossthestreet,along-rumoredfrontforamurderousmotorcyclegang.Thenaturallightisoptimalforfilmingmyworkouts,especiallycomparedtothealternative—therackcloakedinshadownexttothemen’schangingroom,whichpermanentlyreeksofAxebodyspray.
Thewindowrackiscloseenoughtotheindustrial-sizefantoletmesavorastiffbreezemid-sweat,butnotcloseenoughthatI’llsuccumbtowind-inducedhypothermia.It’salsointheprimepositionforgawkingatthetelevision,which,forunknownreasons,iscruellylockedtotheFoodNetwork.IworshipthissquatrackthewayMotherGothelregardsRapunzel’smagichair.Itgivesmelife.Vigor.FoursetsofsquatsandI’llbehighonendorphinsforatleastaday,fantasizingaboutthestrengthofmythighscrushingthesoulsofathousandmen.
Giddyattheverythought,Istakemyclaimontherack,settingmyphoneandheadphonesonthefloorbeforeheadingforthewaterfountain.Themanwithagoatee,whorocksknee-lengthcargoshortsandanactualSonyWalkmanfromthenineties,approachesatthesametime.Hegraciouslywavesmeaheadofhim.
Iflashhimanappreciativesmile.“Thanks.”
MybackisturnedforallofthreesecondswhileItakeasip.Freshlyhydratedandeagertocrushsomesquats,Ispinaroundtofindanexceptionallybroad-shoulderedfigurestretchingdirectlyinfrontofmywindowrack.
I’veneverseenthismanbeforeandI’mcertainI’dremembertheshitoutofhimifIhad.He’stall,welloversixfeet,withamuscularbuildthatliberallyfillsouthisunassuminggrayT-shirtandathleticshorts.Onelookathisenormousbicepsandit’sclearheknowshiswayaroundagym.Ablackballcapwithanunrecognizablelogoshadowshisface.Fromtheside,hisnosehasaslightbump,asifit’sbeenbrokenbefore.
Ishimmyinbesidehimtopickupmyphone,purposelylingeringforafewextendedbeatstotransmitthemessagethatthisrackisOCCUPIED.Hedoesn’tgetthememo.Instead,heproceedstoclasphismassivehandsaroundthebarbell,browsknitwithintenseconcentration.
Eitherhe’sfullyignoringme,orhegenuinelyhasn’tnoticedmypresence.Thefaintbeatofhismusicisaudiblethroughhisearbuds.Ican’tidentifythesong,butitsoundshard-core,likeaheavy-metalliftingtune.
Iclearmythroat.
Noreaction.
“Excuseme,”Icallout,inchingcloser.
Whenhisgazemeetsmine,Ijolt,instinctivelytakinghalfastepback.Hiseyesareastrikingforestgreen,likeanexpanseofdensepinetreesdustinguntouchedmistymountainterraininthewilderness.NotthatI’dknowfrompersonalexperience.MyexposuretotheruggedwildislimitedtotheDiscoveryChannel.
I’mnearlyhypnotizedbytheintensityofhiseyes,untilhebarksa“Yeah?”beforereluctantlyremovinghisrightearbud.Hisvoiceisdeep,gruff,andshort,likehecan’tbebotheredwithme.Hemomentarilyliftshisballcap,revealingwavy,dirty-blondlocksthatcurlatthenapeofhisneck.Itremindsmeofthescragglyhairstyleswornbyhockeyplayers,thekindyoujustwanttorunyourfingersthrough.Andhedoesjustthat.Mythroatdriesinstantlywhenhesmoothshisthickmanewithonehandbeforedroppinghisballcapbackoverthetop.
Deliberatelyignoringthedipinthebaseofmystomach,Inodtowardmyheadphoneshastilystrewnatthebaseoftherack.“Iwasherefirst.”
Expressionfrosty,hearchesastrongbrow,regardingmewithcontempt,asgymbrostendtodowhenwomendaretotouchwhattheydeemastheirequipment.“Didn’tseeyourstuff.”
Undeterredbyhisbrush-off,Itakeaconfidentstepforward,layingmyrightfulclaim.Whenwe’renearlychesttochest,hetowersovermelikeabehemoth,whichismoreintimidatingthanIanticipated.Iexpecthimtobackoff,toseetheerrorofhisways,torealizehe’sbeingaprick,buthedoesn’tevenflinch.
Swallowingthelumpinmythroat,Ifindmyvoiceagain.“I’llonlybeafewminutes,max.Wecouldevenswitchinandout?”
Hesidesteps.Forasecond,Ithinkhe’sleaving.I’mabouttothankhimforhisgraceandhumanity…untilhedarestoloadonesideofthebarbellwithaforty-five-poundplate,bicepsstrainingagainstthefabricofhisT-shirt.
“Seriously?”Istareathim,handsonhips,gazesettlingonhissoft,fulllips,whichcontrastwiththeharshlineofhisstubbledjaw.
“Look,Ineedtogettoworkinhalfanhour.Can’tyoujustusetheotherrack?It’sfree.”Asheruthlesslybalancestherackwithanotherplate,hebarelysparesmeapassingglance,asifI’mnothingmorethanapeskyhousefly.
Ipridemyselfonbeinganaccommodatingperson.Iwaveothercarsaheadofmeatfour-waystops,evenifIhavetheright-of-way.Ialwaysinsistothersexitelevatorsinfrontofme,asmyparentstaughtme.Ifhehadjustbeenpolite,half-decent,eventheslightestbitapologetic,Iprobablywouldhavelethimhaveit.Butheisn’tanyoftheabove,andI’mshook.
“No,”Isay,outofprinciple.
Hisjawtightensasherestshisforearmsonthebar.Thewayheleansintoit,stancewideandhulking,ispurelyaterritorialmove.Hegivesmeonelast,indignantshrug.“Well,I’mnotmoving.”
We’relockedinastare-offwithnothingbutthefaintsoundofKatyPerrysingingaboutbeing“aplasticbagdriftingthroughthewind”overthegymsoundsystemandamangruntingonthelegpressacouplefeetawaytoquellthesilence.Myeyesaredryanditchyfrommyrefusaltoblink,andtheintensityofhisstareoffersnosignoffatigue
WhenKatyPerryfadesout,replacedbyanExcaliburFitnesspromotionalad,Iletoutahalfsigh,halfgrowl.Thisguyisn’tworthmyenergy.Iretrievemyheadphonesfromthefloorandstomptothelessdesirablerack,butnotbeforeshootinghimonelastevileye.
11:05A.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“ASSHOLESWHOTHINKTHEYOWNTHEGYM”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Realtalk:Thismorning,anarrogantdickheadwithnicerhairthanmecallouslystolemysquatrack.Whodoesthis?Andifyou’reguiltyofthiscrime,WHOHURTY’ALL?
Idon’tknowhimpersonally(andIdon’twantto),buthestruckmeasthekindofpersonwholoathespuppiesandjoyingeneral.Youknowthetype.Anyway,Iendedupchannelingallmyangerintomyworkoutwhileblastingmycurrentjam,“Fitness”byLizzo(trust,thissongisfire).
Finalthoughts:Mostpeopleatthegymaren’tassholes.Ipromise.99%aresuperhelpfulandrespectful,eventhesteroidfratboys!Andifyoudoencounterthatunfortunate1%,juststeerclear.Nevergivethempoweroveryouoryourfitnessjourney.
ThanksforlisteningtomyTEDTalk,
Crystal
Commentbyxokyla33:YASgirl!You’resoooright.Youdoyou!!
Commentby_jillianmcleod_:Ijustdon’tfeelcomfortableworkingoutatthegymforthisreason.Wouldratherworkoutathome.
CommentbyAPB_rockss:Upromoteembracingyourcurves/sizebutalludoisworkoutandliveatthegym?Hypocritemuch??
ReplybyCurvyFitnessCrystal:@APB_rockssActuallyIspendonehourinthegymworkingouteachday.Devotingtimeeverydayforyourself,whetherit’satthegym,takingawalk,orinabubblebathishugelybeneficialforallaspectsofyourlife,includingmentalhealth.Also,youcanbothloveyourbodyandgotothegym.Theyaren’tmutuallyexclusive.
???
AFTERYESTERDAY’SINCOHERENTInstagramrant,Itookamuch-neededsoul-searchingbubblebath.Myresponsetothepersonwhocalledmeahypocriteunintentionallysparkedafiercedebateofepicproportionsbetweenmyloyalfollowersandmyhaters.Itrynottopaythetrollsaniotaofattention,butafterSquatRackThiefandtwoglassesofmerlot,Iwasfeelingatingecombative.Andit’sbeenbuildingformonths.
Forsevenyears,I’vestriventoshatterharmful,fatphobicstereotypesinthefitnessindustry.I’vebuiltanInstagramfollowingoftwohundredthousandbasedonmymessageofself-love,regardlessofsize.Thedramaovermebeing“toobig”tobeapersonaltraineryet“notbigenough”torepresentthecurvycommunityistypicalintheabyssofthecommentssection.There’snoin-between.
Thecrassbody-shamingandoccasionalracistslurshavebecomemorecommonplacewiththegrowthofmyfollowing.Forthesakeofmaintainingapositivemessage,I’veignoredthehatefulcomments.Thefactis,Ilovemycurves.Mostofthetime.I’monlyhuman.Occasionally,thetrollsmanagetopenetratemyarmor.Whenthishappens,Iallowmyself
Butlastnight,sometimebeforemyrainbowglitterbathbombdissolvedentirely,itoccurredtomethatmyfollowersareprobablyequally,ifnotmore,hurtbythecomments.IfIwanttostayauthenticandtruetomybody-positiveplatform,maybeit’stimetostartspeakingout.
Today’sworkoutistheperfecttimetoruminateovermystrategy.
Buttomydispleasure,SquatRackThiefisbackagain,fortheseconddayinarow.He’sstretchingintheGymBroZone.Musthehavesuchmagnificentquads?
HenarrowshisgazeinmydirectionasIshimmythroughtheturnstiles.Instantly,hisexpressiongoesfromneutraltoadeepscowl,asifmymerepresencehasderailedhisentireday.
Ieyehimsidewaysbeforeshiftingmyfauxattentiontothegenericmotivationalquotesplasteredonthewallinanaggressivelyboldfont:Ifitdoesn’tchallengeyou,itwon’tchangeyou.
EvadinghimforthedurationofmyworkoutisharderthanIexpected.WhereverIgo,he’sloominginmyperipherals,takinguppreciousspacewithhisgloriouslymuscledbody.
WhenIwokeupthismorning,itcrossedmymindthathecouldbeanExcaliburFitnessnewbiewhohasn’tgraspedtheconceptofgymetiquette.Ifullyintendedtogivehimthebenefitofthedoubt.Maybehewassimplyhavingabadday.Maybehespenttheentirenightstaringintothevastdistance,roilingwithregret.LordknowsI’vehadmyfairshareofrage-workouts.
Allofthesepossibilitiesloselegitimacywhenheconspirestoout-pedalmeontheneighboringassaultbike.WhenIcatchhimeyeingmyscreen,IchannelmyinnerCharlie’sAngelandfull-throttleit.
Atthetwenty-caloriemark,webothstop,panting,hunchedoverthehandles.My“no-makeup”makeuphasprobablymeltedentirely,andI’mseeingspots.Butmyexertionwasworthit—Ibeathimbyawhole0.02miles.Hepracticallyseetheswhenhereadsmyscreen.Evidentlyunabletocopewithmyvictory,hepouts,promptlyhightailingittothemachines.
Nothalfanhourlater,it’sofficiallygameoverwhenIwitnesshimsaunterawayfromthelegpresswithoutbotheringtowipedowntheseat.Thedarkestplacesinhellarereservedforthosewhodon’tcleanthemachinesafteruse.
Compelledtospeakuponbehalfofallhygiene-policy-abidinggympatrons,Isetmydumbbellsdownandmarchforth.
He’sinthezoneashedoesaroundofeffortlesspull-ups.Istand,mouthagape,unintentionallymesmerizedbythetaut,cordedmusclesinhisarmsflexingwitheachmovement.
HegivesmeaChrisEvansvibe,butwithslightlylonger,lusciouslocks.Idon’tknowifit’stheglintinhishoodedeyesorthedimples,buthehasaboyishlooktohimthatmakeshimappearfaintlyapproachablewhenheisn’tscowlingatme.
Whenhecatchesmegawkingathimlikeacrazedfangirlthirstingforaselfie,hepauses,danglingfromthebar.“How’stheviewfromdownthere?”
I’mabouttosaygodlike,bothbecauseit’sentirelytrueandbecauseit’smydefaulttocomplimentpeople.Idoitforaliving.Butthelastthingthisguyneedsisaconfidenceboost.
Iconsciouslymakeaflatlinewithmymouth,channelingMom’ssevereexpressionwhenshe’ssupremelydisappointedinmylifechoices.Iholdoutapapertowel,generouslypre-sprayedwithdisinfectant,forhisconvenience,ofcourse.“Areyouforgettingsomething?”
Heblinks.“NotthatI’mawareof.”
“Youforgottocleanthelegpress.”
Hereleasesthebar,stickingasmoothlandingasheeyesthepapertowelpinchedbetweenmyfingerslikeit’sbeendippedinsulfuricacid.“Keepingtrackofmyworkoutorsomething?”
“No,”Isay,alittletoodefensively.“Butyouneedtowashthemachineswhenyou’redonewiththem.It’sarulehere.Peopledon’twanttotouchyourdriedsweat.”Iinwardlycringe.ImightaswellhaveanI’d-like-to-speak-with-a-managerangledbob.ButIcan’tbackdownnow.Infact,Idoubledown,pointingtothesignonthewalltoourrightthatreadsPleasewipedownmachinesafteruse.
Hedoesn’tevenglanceatthesign.Instead,heappraisesme,armsfoldedoverhisbroadchest.“I’mnotdonewiththemachine.Areyouunfamiliarwithsupersets?Youknow,whenyoucyclethroughmultipleexercisesback-to-back—”
“Iknowwhatasupersetis!”Isnap.HeatrocketsfrommylowerbellytomycheekswhenIrealizeI’veunjustlycalledhimout.Thisismortifying.Isilentlywillmyselftodisappearintoanobscure,nonexistentsinkhole.Maybethisiscosmicretributionfornotmindingmyownbusiness.
Heflashesmeaknowingsmirkandstrutsbackforanotherset.
Asifthispainfulinteractionneverhappened,Islinkawayintoobscuritytofilmmybackworkouttutorialonthecablemachine.It’saprimeopportunitytopromotemysponsoredsweat-resistantactivewear.
I’mmidwaythroughfilmingashotoftencablerowswhenSquatRackThiefmaterializesoutofthinair.Hechoosestoparkhismassivebodydirectlyinfrontofthecamera,ofallplaces,blockingtheshot.Inmysilentfury,Iloseallfocus,withzerorecollectionofwhetherI’monthefirstreporthetenth.
Heleanslazilyagainstthemachine,wearingasmuggrinthatI’mbeginningtothinkishisnaturalrestingface.
“Yes?”Iaskthroughclenchedteeth,irritatedattheprospectofre-filmingtheentiresegment.
Heproducesapapertowelfrombehindhisback,swishingitinfrontofmyface.“Here.Soyoudon’tforgettowipedowntheseat.”
Hissarcastictonecombinedwithhissneertellsmeheisn’tdoingthisoutofthegoodnessofhisheart.Thisisahostileactofaggression,cementingourrivalry.
BeforeIcanformulateacuttingresponse,hedropsthepapertowelintomylapandwaltzestowardthechangingroom.chaptertwo
SQUATRACKTHIEFhasgracedExcaliburFitnesswithhiscocksurepresenceforthethirddayinarow.I’veofficiallydesignatedhimmygymnemesis.
I’vebeenhereforlessthanhalfanhourandI’malreadyfantasizingabout“accidentally”spritzinghimwithabottleofchemicaldisinfectant.
Itallstartedwithanunfortunateencounterattheentrance.Hesilentlyheldthedooropenformeandanotherpatron,asifhe’dsuddenlytransformedintosomechivalrousgentleman.Ifrownedathim,cautiouslyfollowingwhiletryingnottoadmirehisfinelymuscledassforlongerthanahotsecond.
Turnsout,myskepticismofhischivalrywaswell-founded.Apparently,he’slimitedtooneactofkindnessperday(orsoIthought),becausenotfifteenminuteslater,hecutinfrontofmeatthewaterfountain,whereheproceededtotakehissweettimefillinghismonstrosityofawaterbottle.Tothebrim.
Afterunapologeticallystealingmyplaceinline,herushedofftothebenchpresslikeavaguelysexierversionofSupermantoassistPatty,anelderlygymregularwhonevermissesanopportunitytocomplaintoeveryoneinhergeneralvicinityaboutthegym’svariousfailings(the“frigid”temperature,the“thug”music,andthelackof“ambience”).WhenSquatRackThiefflashedherasemi-authentic,angelicsmileaftersavingherfrombeingcrushedflatbythebarbell,Ihadtosteadymyself.Doesthismansufferfromsplitpersonalitydisorder?
IshiftmyfocusfromhisegotisticalyethighlyconfusingselftoMel,mynewin-personclient.We’reswappingInstagramhorrorstoriesduringaquickbreakafterabicepsandtricepscircuit.
“TherewasthisguywhoDM’dmedickpicseverydayformonthsafterIpostedabikinipicture.”Shetwistshermouth,gaggingatthememoryassheshowsmethephotoonherphone.
Ileanin,feigningcuriosity,pretendingIhaven’talreadycreepedherentireaccountbackto2012.Theshotisperfectlyframed.She’ssmize-ingintothedistance,lushbarrel-curledhairdrapedoveroneshoulder,legsdanglinginwhatappearstobesomeposh,exclusiverooftoppoolforbeautifulpeopleonly.She’srockingavibrantBarbie-pinkbikini.
Melisoneofahandfuloffashion,beauty,andlifestyleInstagraminfluencerswhoisn’tasizezero.Allherphotosareperfectlycuratedagainstthebackdropofherall-white,ultramodernapartment,featuringfreshflorals,pastelaccents,andweeklyhighteabrunches.Shehadbeenreticentaboutjoiningthegymforyearsduetoahigh-heel-inducedkneeinjury,butsherequestedamuscle-buildingplanafterdiscoveringwebothlivedinBoston.
Wehititoffrightaway.We’rebothtwenty-seven.We’rebothChinese,althoughshe’sadoptedandI’mhalfIrish.We’rebothstaunchproponentsofthebody-positivitymovement.Andwealsoshareanunapologeticobsessionwithrealitytelevision,particularlyanythingrelatedtoRealHousewives
“Okay,damn.You’reservingsomeseriouslookshere.Notthatit’saninvitationfordickpics.”Ipause,eyeingthebonkersnumberofLikesonthephoto.
Shewipesasingledropofsweatfromherforeheadwithherperfectlypolishedacrylicnailbeforecontinuingherstory.“ItwastheweirdestoneI’veeverseen.Itwasbent.Like…superoff-kiltertotheside.Likeahook.”
“Ahook?”Iclarifythroughastartledyelp.
“Likeanumbrellahook,Crystal.Noexaggeration.Doyouthinkpenisescanbreak?”
I’mabouttotellherIhaven’tthefaintestidea,followedbyarantabouthowdickpicsareneverattractive,hook-shapedorotherwise,whenSquatRackThiefparkshimselfonthebenchbesideus.
Hismouthiscurledupwardinamusement,whichisshocking,becauseIwasunawarethosechannelingthespiritofDarthVaderwerecapableofjoy.Iwonderhowmuchofourpenisconversationhe’sheard.
AfterPaperTowelGateyesterday,Ivowednottostressoverthispunch-worthy,smugstranger.Butit’smorechallengingthanexpectedwhenhe’ssittingsoclose,fillingmynosewithhisenthralling,freshlylaunderedscent,drawingmyattentiontohowmarveloushelooksinhismaroonhoodieandballcap.
IwonderifSquatRackThiefisthetypetosendunsoliciteddickpics.Oncethatcompletelyunfoundedthoughtregisters,Iwillitawaytothedesolate,dust-cakedcornersofmymind.WhyamIthinkingabouthispenis?
Youknowwhattheysayaboutlargefeet
Ashetakesalongswigfromhiswaterbottle,oureyeslockinmutualloathing.Itfeelsmorelikeachallenge,lingeringbeforeIblinkitaway.Crystal,bezen.Channelyourinnerpeace.
IrefocusonMel,whogiveshimacuriousonce-over.
“Anyway,”Isay,clearingmythroattodefusethetension,“we’redoingsledpushesnext.”
Shegrimaces.ThelasttimeIassignedsledpushes,shedry-heavedandsweatoffhereyelashextensions.
Icheerheralongonelengthoftheaisleasshehuffs,puffs,andmutterscursewordswitheachlaboredstride.Iwaitforhertobeginthesecondlengthback,butshehesitates.
“LookslikeIdon’thavetofinishmyroundsafterall.”ShegesturesjoyouslytowardSquatRackThief,whoiscasuallylungingwithdumbbellsdirectlyinthemiddleofthepathway.Mel’spathway.Whodoesthisguythinkheis?
Mymouthisopenwide,likeaninfomercialmomwho’sastonishedthedetergentremovedthestubborntomatosaucestainonherwhiteblouse.“Sorry.Oneminute,”Imumble.
Armscrossed,Istormtowardhim,blockinghisattempttolungearoundme.“Didyounotseeusjustnow?Wewerehere.”ImanicallygesturetoMel,whoisobservingwithkeeninterest,restingonthesled.
Withoutaword,hecontinuesaroundme,asifI’mamereblip,apotholeintheroadtoavoid.I’monthebrinkofcallinghimapompousprick,butIbitemytongueandwalkaway,forthesakeofmaintainingtheillusionofprofessionalisminfrontofmyclient.
“What’shisdeal?”MelasksasIbegrudginglyturnthesledhorizontally,towardalessidealaisle.
“He’sjustbeenpissingmeoff.”Iflashhimthestinkeye,thoughhedoesn’tnotice.He’smid-lunge,smugfaceredfromexertion,definitelynotlamentingtheweightofhistransgressionsagainstmelikeadecenthuman.
Melliftsherperfectlyshapedbrows.“Hecheckedyououtearlier.Likefull-onheadtotoe,whileweweretalkingaboutdicks.”
“Hewasprobablyplottingtoassassinateme.”
“Orhewasundressingyouwithhiseyes.”
Hadsomeonesuggestedthistomeyearsago,Iwouldhaveimmediatelyexpressedmydoubt.Butnow,afteryearsofworkingonmyselfandmyconfidence,Idon’tdoubtit.
Despitealwaysbeingintosports,Ineverhadthebodyofanathlete.IinheritedMom’sgenes.Bigframe,muscular,withthickthighs,boobs,andnoshortageofbooty—theoppositeofmyoldersisterandDad’ssideofthefamily,allofwhomareslimandpetite.Forme,alowbodyfatpercentageisn’tinthecardsgenetically.Acceptingthatfactandgettingtothisplacehastakensometime.Inowfocusexclusivelyonde-stigmatizinganddemystifyingthegymforpeoplewhomaynothavefelttheybelonged.Iprioritizethegoalofconfidence.Notcaloriedeficits,anddefinitelynotthenumberonthescale.
“Mel,justthreemorelaps,”Iinstructlikeahard-ass,changingthesubjectentirely.“Finishstrongbeforegirls’night.”
Tonight’sgloriousplantore-watcharom-comonNetflixwithmysister,Tara,isjustwhatIneedafterallthisgymandInstagramdrama.
SquatRackThieflingersinmyperipheralvisionasIfollowMeldowntheaisle.Herestsagainstamachine,catchinghisbreath.WhenIturntomeethisgaze,heflashesmeashit-eatinggrin.
???
IFULLYINTENDEDtobeamatureadult.Ireallydid.
ButaftermullingovertheaislethieveryinthefiveminutessinceMelleftthegym,allIcouldpicturewasSquatRackThief’ssmart-assexpression.Thesameonehe’dwornashecutinfrontofmeatthewaterfountain,andwhenhebrandishedthepapertowelinmyface
I’vebeenapushoveralotofmylife.Backingradeschool,IlettheotherkidsgetfirstpickofmyownBarbies(IendedupwithKendollninety-fivepercentofthetime).IwasrelegatedtotheleastfavoriteSpiceGirl(PoshSpice)forthemedbirthdayparties.Ialwayslettheprocrastinatorscopymyhomeworktwosecondsbeforeclassinhighschool.Andworse,Ilackedtheagencytospeakupordemandotherwise.
WhenIdiscoveredthegymandthefitnesscommunityincollege,Ivowedthatwouldchange.Hereinthegym,I’mnotadoormat.I’mstrongandcapable.Irefusetoletpeoplewalkalloverme,especiallythisinfuriating,far-too-sexystranger.
SowhenSquatRackThiefforgetshisphoneonthematwhenhemovesontothebenchpress,Ifeellittlemoralobligationtoreturnitimmediately.There’sahighchanceI’llstewintothelatehours,besiegedwithguiltandregretoverthis.ButthenIremindmyself:Hewasaskingforit.ItwasonlyamatteroftimebeforeIsnapped.Hedeservestosweatalittle.
Iimaginemyselfrunningoffwithhisphoneintothesunsetinaballergetawaycar,laughingmanicallyasIfloorthegas.ButthenIrememberI’mnotapettycriminal.Ihavemorals.WhichisexactlywhyItemporarilystashhisphoneamongtheshelfoverflowingwithjumpropes,randomaccessories,andcableattachments,purelytoensureit’ssafefrombeingcrushedundersomeone’srunningshoe.
Pleasedwithmygooddeed,Ifastenmyownphoneontomytripodandbegintofilmmylatestlowerabdominalroutine,whichinvolvessittingtwists,flutterkicks,andenoughlegraisestoputJillianMichaelsoutofcommission.
I’mhalfwaythroughtheworkoutwhenalargefigureappearsoverme.
It’shim.
Hekneelsonthemat,lipstight,vibrantgreeneyesfiringlaserbeamsatme.Fromthisangle,Ihaveaclose-upviewofthethickswoopofhiseyelashes.They’reunfairlylongandlushforthemalespecies.
He’ssoclose,hisfreshlaundryscentmixedwithtestosteroneoverridesmysenses.Thesmellofsweatusuallyisn’tappealing,butonhim,it’smarginallyaddicting.Irefrainfrompurposelyinhalingitlikeadrugaddict.
“Whatdidyoudowithmyphone?”heaskscalmlyasmylegsdroptothemat.He’sruinedmyvideo.Again.
Adoe-eyed,beauty-pageant-worthyexpressionovercomesme.Ieventossinaninnocent,slowblinkfordramaticeffect.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Ishiftontomykneestofacehim,readyforaconfrontation.
Hedoesn’tfallformytheatrics.“Iknowyoutookit.Ileftitherefiveminutesago.”
“Peopletendtostealthingsinthisgym.Likesquatracks,forinstance.Howdoyouknowitwasn’tsomeotherrandomwhostoleit?”
“Because.”Hiseyesroammyface,huntingforanysignofweakness,likeatake-no-shithomicidedetective.“You’resmiling.You’rebreathinghard.Andyou’reavoidingeyecontact.”
Nomatterhowjustified,deceithasneverbeenastrengthofmine,evenifIdidn’tactuallystealit.Tokeepmyhandsoccupied,Ireachbacktotightenmymessybun.“Look,NancyDrew,I’mtryingtofilmanabtutorialhere.Doyoumind?”
I’mabouttocaveandpointhimtowardtheshelfwherehisphoneisstashed,butI’mmomentarilydistractedbyhisgazeflickeringtowardmyphone,whichisstillrecording.Withonesmoothmovement,heplucksitfromthetripodanddropsitintothepocketofhisshorts.
Ilurchforward,butit’stoolate.Myphone’sgone,deepintothefarawaydepthsofhisnetherregions.“Hey!Whatthehell?”
Hislipscurlintoasatisfiedsmile.“I’mnotgivingitbackuntilyoutellmewhatyoudidwithmyphone.”
Idon’tlethismesmerizingsmileknockmeoffcourse.Thisiswar.Iwon’tbecompromised.“Ineedmyphone.”
“SodoI,”hesayssmoothly.
“What,forTinder?”I’mbeingacompleteandtotalhypocriterightnow.Infact,TinderJoeisonthetreadmillagainaswespeak.
Hescoffs.“No,actually.Forimportantstuff.”
“WellIusemineforimportantstufftoo.I’mafitstagrammer.”Ihavenoideawhatpossessedmetorevealmyprofession.Hecouldusethisagainstme.Orworse,mockme.Iexpecthimtosnortinderisionorlookmeupanddown,unabletocomprehendhowsomeonelikemeisqualifiedtogivefitnessadvice.
Buthedoesn’t.Hisgazeisunwavering.“Ineedmyphoneforworktoo.”
I’mtemptedtoaskhimwhathedoes.Iimagineit’ssomethingphysical.Perhapshe’salumberjack.OraCaptainAmericastuntdouble.OrmaybeapoutyunderwearmodelplasteredinblackandwhiteonabillboardinTimesSquare.Butthenagain,heisn’tprettyenoughtobeamodel.Maybehe’ssomesortofsemiprohockeyplayer,givenhiswavyhairflow.
Basedonmynot-so-subtleobservation(orglaring),I’vededucedhemaynotbeoneofthosefist-bumpingfratbrosinaneonbro-tank.I’dplacehimabitolder,maybelatetwenties,earlythirties.
“Doyoureallyneeditforwork?”Ichallengehim,takinghisirritatedexpressionasapersonallifeachievement.
Henodscurtly.
“Isitlifeordeath?”
Surprisingly,heactuallysays“Yes”withlittleeffort.NowI’mdyingtoknowwhathedoes.ButI’llneverask.
“Proveit.”
“How?”
“Stopstealingthingsfromme.Workoutmachines,floorspace,myplaceinlineatthewaterfountain.”Iwaveavaguehandaroundthegym.
Hescoffs.“HasiteveroccurredtoyouthatImightneedtheequipmentorthespacetoo?Thisisn’tyourgym.”Weholdmutualstaresforacouplebreathsbeforehefinallyrelents.“Okay,I’llgiveyourphoneback.Ifyougivememine.Atthesametime.”
Inod,standingtounearthhisdevicefromtheshelfacouplefeetaway.“Fortherecord,Iwasgoingtogiveitbackbeforeyouleft.”
Hiseyeswidenuponseeinghisphone.Isupposehe’sjustthankfulIhaven’tflusheditdownthetoilet,which,tobefair,crossedmymind.
Idanglehisphoneatchestlevel,snappingitbackbeforehehasachancetoswipeitfrommydeathgrip.“Onthecountofthree?”
Hedipshischin.
One.
Two.
Three.
Heswiftlyreclaimshisphonefrommyfingerswhilesimultaneouslyholdingmineoutofreach.
Traitor.Hewouldbethetypetobreakthesanctityofapact.Themanhaszeromorals.
Igrowl.“Seriously?Wehadadeal.”
Hislipscurlintoaclosed-mouthgrin.“Tellmeyourname.”
“Idon’trevealmytruenametostrangersatthegym.”
Whenhestepsforward,closingthegapbetweenus,myearspoundasthebloodrushestomyhead.
Heholdsmyphonelow,graciouslypermittingmeaquickvisualofthescreen.It’sstillontherecordvideosetting,whichisinterruptedbyaflurryofInstagramnotifications.HegrinslikeaCheshirecatwhenmyusernamepopsup.“Crystal.”
Whenhesaysmynameinthatdeep,smooth,sultryvoice,mykneesweaken.Inearlydissolveintothefloor.
Despitebeingfivefooteight,inchesabovebeingconsideredshort,anyfranticattemptImakeatreclaimingmyphoneisacompletefailure.Withhisarmoutstretched,heholdsitmanyfeetoutofreach.
Igroan.“Okay,youknowmynameisCrystal.Happy?Nowgiveitback.”IcanseethescreenenoughtorecognizethataTindermessagehasjustpoppedup.
Hiseyeslightupashereadsitaloud.“Zaynwantstoknowifyou’reupforNetflixandchill…”Hepauses,squintingatthescreen,asifconfirmingthewords.“Chillaxing.”
“Donotrespond!”Ilungeformyphoneagain,buthesnapsitfartherback.
I’mdesperatetopreservewhatlittledignityandcontrolIhaveleft.It’snotlikeIknowZayn.He’sarandomTindermatchwhomIswipedrightonforthesolereasonthatheresembledDevPatelinhisphotos(swoon).Butgivenhisuseofthewordchillaxing,he’sprobablyanautomaticNo.
SquatRackThieflookslikeaMarvelvillainonthebrinkofannihilatingEarthandallitsinhabitants.“I’mgonnaaskhimtodefine‘Netflixandchill-axing.’?”
Itoccurstomethatherevelsinmydesperation,likethesickoheis.Infact,itprobablyencourageshim,giveshimsomesortofhigh.SoIswitchmytactic.“Gorightahead.Idareyou.”Mytoneisunwavering.Itchannelsconfidence,eventhoughtheabsolutelastthingIwantisavengefulstrangersendingembarrassingmessagesonmybehalf.
Unfortunately,mychallengebackfires.HetypesthemessageandtriumphantlyhitsSend,tiltingmyphonetoprovehesentthemessage.
“Iassumeyou’reprettyfamiliarwiththeNetflix-and-chillroutine?”Isay
“Youthinkso,huh?”
“Yup.”
Heshakeshishead.“Nah.AndI’dcomeupwithabetterpickuplinethanthat.”
Ihalf-scoff.“Hitmewithyourbestshot.”
Hesmilesandstrokeshisdefinedjaw,pretendingtobepensive.“Well,GIFwarsalwayswork.OrmaybeI’duseaclassicjoke.”
“Aclassicjoke?Likewhat?”
Heleanshiselbowonthemachinebesideus.“Okay…Areyoureadytobewowed?”
Igivehimadeadpanlook.
Hesoftenshisentireface,hisdemeanortransitioningfromSquatRackThieftofake-charming-man-with-mesmerizing-smilebeforemyeyes.Histeetharebrilliantlywhite,althoughoneismarginallycrookedinthefront,whichmakeshimslightlymorehuman.Hisearsalsostickoutasmidge,butitjustaddstohisfauxcharm.“Areyouabankloan?Becauseyouhavemyinterest.”
Myexpressionisoneofstone,soastonotgivehimanounceofsatisfaction.Thejokeislame.Butthewayhesaysitsoearnestly,it’sborderlineadorable.Themomentthatthoughtregisters,Imentallysmackmyself.
Hegoesforitagain.“Areyoumyappendix?Thisfeelinginmystomachmakesmewanttotakeyouout.”
Myabdominalsachefromsuppressingmylaugh.Thisisanabworkoutallonitsown.“Okay,thesearenext-levelhorrible.Ihopeyouhaven’tactuallyusedtheseonareal,livewoman.”
Hefeignsoffense,holdinghispalmtohischest.“Thoseweremybestones.”Takingonelastglanceatmyscreen,hedanglesmyphoneatchestlevel.“Zaynresponded…withawinkface,”hesaysflatly,handingmyphoneback.
Withninjaspeed,Isnatchitbeforehechangeshismindandholdsithostageforever.
“What’syourname?”ThewordstumbleoutofmymouthbeforeIevenregisterwhatI’msaying.WhydoIcaretoknowhislegalname?SquatRackThiefsuitshimjustfine.
Iholdmybreath,awaitinghisanswer.
Amused,heopenshismouth,butnowordscomeout.Instead,hejuststridesaway.chapterthree
THANKSFORLETTINGmecrashtonight,”Melsaysgratefully,bundledonthelivingroomfloornexttomeinabougiesilkTedBakerpajamasetthatprobablycostmorethanmycouch.
Taradive-bombsusontheairmattress,cladinherhomemadeiron-onTeamPeterKavinskyT-shirt.“Okay,putonToAlltheBoys.Mybodyisprimedandready.”Shetossesafull-sizecanisterofPringlesatus.
“Really,Tara?Plain?”Itakethisasapersonalaffront.ThisiswhyIdon’tletmysisterchoosethesnacks.
Shescowlsatme,reclaimingthePringles,holdingthemsnuglytoherchest,asifprotectingthemfromharshwords.“Originalflavoristhebest,thankyouverymuch.”
“Sure,ifyoulikethetasteofsaltycardboard,”Isay.
Tarascoffs.“Comingfromthegirlwhothinkspretzelsareremotelyinthesameleagueaschips.”SheturnstoMel,herFrenchbraidwhippingmeinthecheekintheprocess.“She’soneofthosepretzelpeople,”shewhispersconspiratorially,eyeingmeasifI’marareraceofmolepeoplerumoredtodwellinthesewers.
Melnodsgravely,likesheunderstands.
IgiveTaraaswiftkickintheshin.“Irefusetoabidebysuchslander.”
Tarapretendstoyelpinpainforalloftwosecondsbeforelaunchingintoalong-windedtaleaboutthelatestrandoshesupposedly“fellinlovewith.”Shemetthisoneintheelevatorofthehospitalwheresheworks.Allegedly,hehadsoulmatepotential.SheknowsthisbecausehegaveheraWerther’sOriginalandtoldherhelikedherfloral-printnursingscrubsbeforegettingoffathisfloor.
“Abutterscotchcandy?Areyousurehewasn’tatoothlessseniorcitizen?”Melasks.
“No,hewasnoolderthanthirty,”shechirpsbackdefensively.
“Jesus,I’mshockedyoudidn’tgetroofied,”Ilament.
Ourgirls’nightturnedintoaslumberpartyafterMel’snineteen-year-oldbrotherinsistedonhostingaragingkegpartyatherapartment.Iquiveratthethoughtofcollegestudentsstaininghercrispwhitecouch,astapleinmostofherInstagramphotos.
UnlikeMel’splace,myapartmentisn’twhiteandmodern.It’saconvertedfirehouse,cladwithexposedredbrickwallsandvibrant,boldlypatternedfurniture,predominantlyrefurbishedbyMomandme.RepaintingandreupholsteringantiquepiecesbecameanobsessionofoursduringthesummerbeforeIgraduatedfromcollege.Tothisday,Istillscouryardsales,fleamarkets,andhomedécorstores,huntingforitemsIdefinitelydon’tneed.
Thebestthingaboutmyapartmentistheliteralfirepole,extendingfromtheopenloftthatdoublesasTara’sroomdowntothespaciouslivingarea.Withmycoffeetablepushedagainstthetelevisionstand,we’vemanagedtocramanentirequeen-sizeairmattressinhere.
We’rebarelypayingattentiontothemovie,despiteourloveforLaraJeanandPeterKavinsky.Instead,we’rehighlydistractedbyfood,wine,andconversation.Iwasn’tsurehowMelwouldgelwithmysister,givenherup-front,bossbitchpersonalityandTara’stenderhearted,sensitivenature.Buttheyseemtobegettingalonglikeahouseonfire.Thingsstartoffwithgroupbrainstormingformyself-lovecampaign,butafterafewglassesofwineandrandomaww-ingatPeter’sdopeyadorableness,theconversationshifts.
“DidyouhaveanymoreinteractionswithSquatRackThiefafterIlefttoday?”Melasks.Shepullsherthickhairintoaperfectlysleekhighponytail.Ienvygirlslikeherwhocanputtheirhairbacksoeffortlessly,withoutamillionbabyhairsstickinguponend.WhenIattemptit,Iresembleajuvenileorangutanwithbedhead,unlessIhairspraymyflyawaysdown.
Taragroans.“Isshestillcomplainingaboutthisguy?”I’dtoldherabouttheinitialsquatrackthievery,andshecalledme“petty,”whichisironic.She’sthegirlwhospitefullyplannedhernow-canceledweddingforAugust,themonthherformermother-in-law-to-bewasplanningatriptoIceland.
“Theyhavethissexualtensionthinggoingon,”Melexplains.
“Nottrue.”IwrangletwobrokenPringlesfromthecan.
Melrollshereyesdismissively.“Youguysfull-outstareateachotherfromacrossthegym.”
“Hate-stare.AndI’mignoringhimfromhereonout.”
“Oh,comeon.Heseemslikeareallyniceguy.He’salwaysholdingdoorsforpeople.TheotherdayIsawhimhelpthatmanwholookslikeDr.Philwithhisdeadliftform.”
Isigh,reachingtotucktheprotrudingtagintothebackofTara’sT-shirt.“Okay,butwhyshouldhegetagoldstarforbeingahalf-decentperson?Mystandardsaren’tthatlow.”
Tarapullsherbraidoverherbonyshoulderandexamineshersplitends.“IneedtoseeapictureofthisguybeforeIcanmakeanyjudgments.”
IfonlyIdidn’thaveamentalpictureofhimandhissmugsmirkpermanentlyetchedintomymemory.“You’reoutofluck.Idon’tevenknowhisname.”IconvenientlyomitthefactthatIdidaskhim,andhewalkedawayfromme.Truthfully,itstungabit,likethedullacheofatinypapercutyoudesperatelyrefrainfromwhiningabouteverytimeyouwashyourhands.
Melsitsuprighttosipherwine.“He’shot.Like,reallyhot.Supertall.Musclesfordays.Liftsheavy,whichmeanshehasalotofendurance…”sheadds,suggestivelywagglingherbrows.
Taranodsappreciativelywhilepaintinghertoenailsahideousplumcolor.“Whyaren’tyouhoppingonhisbandwagon?”
“Thisso-calledsexualtensionisamyth.We’renemeses,ifanything.”
Taraclaspsherchest,nearlydrippingnailpolishonmycarpet.“SethandIdidn’tlikeeachotheratfirsteither,”shestarts,herexpressiondarkeningassheturnstoMeltoexplain.“Sethwasmyfiancé.Wemetatthehospital.Iproposedtohim…butwecalledofftheweddingacouplemonthsago.”
Herex-fiancéisthereasonshe’sbeenoccupyingmyloft/den.Sevenmonthsbeforetheirelaborateone-hundred-fifty-personweddingattheSheraton,Sethbrokethingsoffoutofnowhere.
Tarashowedupatmydoorattwointhemorninginherpajamaswithonlyasuitcasefullofbooks,indesperateneedofjunkfoodandaplacetostay.Onenightswiftlyturnedintotwomonths,withnosignofherleaving.
Givenherfragilestate,whichinvolvedsobbingandlisteningtoTaylorSwiftonrepeat,I’vebeenreluctanttosuggestshemoveout.Onlyinthepastfewweekshassheresumedwearingactualpantsandfillinginhereyebrows.MomandIsuspectshe’llbebackonthedatingscenesoon.Taraloveslove,preferringValentine’sDaytoChristmas.
“Anyplanstostartdatingagainsoon?Evenjustcasually?”Iask.
TarashiversasshecrunchesanotherPringle.“Idon’tdocasual.IfIdon’tevenknowadude’smiddlename,I’mnotabouttotouchtheirpenis.”
Melcringes.“Thedatingworldisterrifying.I’veseenthespecimensonthemarket.”
“I’dratherpluckmypubesoutonebyonethanresorttoonlinedating.Tinderlookslikeabarrenwasteland,”Taraadds,eyeingmetoconfirm.“You’vebeenNeil-freeforwhat,afewmonthsnow?”
MystomachclenchesatthemerementionofNeil’sname.“Yup.”
Melshiftsontoherstomach,proppingherchinupwithherhands.“WhathappenedwiththisNeilguy?”
“He’smyex.”IshootTaraawarningglance.ThelastthingIwanttodoismuddyournightwithtalkofNeil.Heneverfailstodullmymood.
“He’sliketheJustinBiebertoherSelenaGomez,”TaratellsMel,asifthatexplainstheentiredynamicbetweenNeilandme.“Excepthe’sagreasyfailedmusicianwhothinkshe’sGod’sgifttowomankind.Crystal’shischronicsecondchoicewhenthingsgosouthwithhisex.”
IshrugwhenMellooksatme.Tara’sdepictionisfullyaccurate.NeilandImetataHalloweenparty.I’dbeencoercedbyacollegefriendtogooutatthelastminute.Ididn’thaveacostume,soIhaphazardlygrabbedarandomflowercrown,threwonsomeiridescentmakeup,andwentasaSnapchatfilter.Neilwasamonk.Iaskedhimifhewascelibate,andheslappedthewall,wheezingwithlaughter,beforesinkingabeerpongpoint.Thatprobablyshouldhavebeenmyfirstclue.
Eventhoughhe’djustgottenoutofarelationship,heseemedentirelyintome.HelaughedateverythingIsaidandmimickedmymannerisms.Heflirtedshamelessly,touchingmyarmandsqueezingmywaist.
“You’resodifferentthanmyex,”he’dsaid,chuggingbacktheremainderofhisredSolocup.Ifoundoutlaterhisex,Cammie,wasaliteralmodel.AtallerversionofDaenerysfromGameofThroneswithhersilver-blondhairandslenderfigure.Theoppositeofme.HalfAsianandcurvy.
Iblushed.“Idon’tknowhowtotakethat.”
Hesmiled,tuggingastrandofmyhair,leaningclosertome.“It’sagoodthing.Trustme.”
AndIdid.Iateupallhiswords,reassuringmethatIwasspecial.Thatwehadsomesortofunparalleledconnection.WedatedcasuallyforalmostayeardespitemywholefamilyhatinghimafterheshowedupwastedatDad’sbirthdaypartyanddecideditwastheappropriateoccasiontodebatecontroversialworldissues.Afterthat,Inolongerbroughthimaroundmyfamilyorfriendsforfearhewouldoffendsomeone.Heneverbotheredtointroducemetohispeopleeither.Itwaslikeweexistedinourownlittlebubble,justthetwoofusholedupinmyapartmentfordaysonend.Then,withoutwarning,hedumpedmetogobacktoCammie.
“I’moverhimnow,”IreassureMelandTara,eventhoughthewordscomeoutstiffandrobotic.Truthfully,Istillmisshimsometimes.Andthehurttripleseverytimehepopsbackintomylifelikeabadzit,askingforrelationshipadvice.
Melshiftsontoherkneestofaceme.“Well,ifyou’reoverNeil,maybeyoushouldhookupwithsomeonewholookslikeSquatRackThief.”
“Agreed.”Tarafansherselfforunknownreasons,sinceshehasnocluewhathelookslike.
Istiflealaugh.“I’mnottryingtobethethirstpolicehere,butit’snotgoingtohappen.Nomorerandomhookupsforme.”
ImmediatelyafterNeilbrokeupwithme,hookupsfilledthevoid.Theywerefunandempowering.ImayhavegottenwhatIwantedphysically.Butinthelightofmorning,therealityofwakingupbesideadroolingrandowhodoesn’tevenownabedframeandafittedsheetisalltoobleak,followedbythatgnawingfeeling.Thatfleetingteaseofaffection,beingconnectedwithsomeone,anyone,forabrieftime.Rememberinghowgooditfeels.Howwonderfulitistobetouched,embraced.Andthenjustgray.Bleak.Nothingness.Overwhelmingloneliness.
Andso,forthepasttwoweekssinceTinderJoe,I’veswornoffrandomhookupsinfavorofwaitingforsomethingreal.
DespiteMelandTara’shopes,thiswarbetweenmeandmygymnemesishastocease.Therewillbenofireworksandrandomhookups,especiallynotwithhim.Infact,therewillbenothingbuttwoenemiesgoingtheirseparateways.
10:00A.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“SIZEPOSITIVECAMPAIGN”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Takeoutyourscalesandtapemeasuresandthrowtheminthetrash!Youwon’tbeneedingthem.
Youmightbethinking:Crystal,sitdown.Pouraglassofwine.Whyareyouaskingmetothrowoutmy$200fancy-schmancyscale?
Okay,Igotalittledramatic.WhatImeantosayis,stoprelyingonyourscalesandtapemeasurestomakeyoufeelgoodaboutyourself.Todayistheofficiallaunchofmyspring/summercampaign,SIZEPOSITIVE.It’smychallengetotrackyourfitnessprogressbasedonHOWYOUFEEL,withouttheconstraintofnumbersthatstudiesshowactuallycauseanxietyanddiscouragepeople.
Asmostofyouknow,Istruggledwithmyweightforyears.Inthegymchangingroominmiddleschool,Istartedtorecognizethatalltheothergirlsweretinycomparedtome.Ilovedgymclass,butIgrewself-consciousofchanginginfrontofeveryoneelse,soI’dgointothebathroomstalls.Tohide.Oneday,mygymteachertoldmeIcouldn’tchangeinthestallanymore,andIwenthomeandcried.
IfIcouldtalktomy12-year-oldself,I’dtellhershe’sworthsomuchmorethanjustthenumberonthescale.I’dtellhertopracticeeatinguntilshe’sfull,notstuffed.Toeatwhatmakesherfeelgood,notjustbecauseshe’ssadorbored.TogooutforlunchwithfriendsandjusthavefuninsteadofworryingabouthowmanycaloriesoneSubwaysandwichis.
Amassivepartoffitnessismentalhealth.Ifyou’reunhappy,stressed,andconstantlybeinghardonyourself,yourbodywillrejectprogress.Andyoucertainlywon’tbeasinspiredtokeeppushingforwardwhenit’stough.
That’swhyI’mchallengingyoutojointheSizePositivecampaignbyignoringthehatersandthenumbers,andlivingyourbestlife.Yoursizemeansnothingifyouaren’thappy.Who’swithme?
Commentbytrainerrachel_1990:Ilovethis!!Sojoiningin.Screwthescales.
CommentbyBradRcerrr:Southinkitsokforppltobeobeseaslongasthey’re“happy”?LOL
Commentby_jillianmcleod_:Canrelate.Ihatedgettingchangedinthelockerroomtoo.
CommentbyPilatesgirl1016:Thanksforsharingyourstoryandthisamazingcampaign!Soinspirational.Iagree,IfeelsomuchbetterwhenI’mnotweighingmyself.Haven’tdoneitinyears.Ijustfocusonmyprogressatthegym.
CommentbyKelsey_Bilson:HowdoItrackmyprogresswithoutdietingorweighingmyself?Isn’titcaloriesin,caloriesout?
ReplybyCurvyFitnessCrystal:@Kelsey_BilsonI’mnotsayingtostoptrackingthesethingsoutrightifit’sworkingforyou.Butifit’sstartingtoupsetyouorstressyouout,stopforafewweeksandjustlistenandrespectyourbody.chapterfour
EVERYYEARONEasterSunday,thefollowingthingshappenlikeclockwork:
Mom’ssideofthefamily,theMcCarthys,congregatesatGrandmaFlo’sbungalow.WewatchWillyWonkaandtheChocolateFactory,theoriginalversion,squishedonthestifffloralcouchwhileindulginginaweek’sworthofMiniEggs.
Taraentertainsthefamilywithheruncanny(andeerilyaccurate)impressionofVerucaSaltsinging,“Iwanttheworld.Iwantthewholeworld.Iwanttolockitallupinmypocket.It’smybarofchocolate.Giveittomenow!”whileIplugmyears.
Mom’s“thirdchild,”adreadfulfive-poundChihuahuanamedHillary(yes,MomnamedherafterHillaryClinton),incessantlywhinesatallthemalefamilymembersforattention.Andwhenshedoesn’tgetit,shelashesoutbypeeingonGrandma’sPersianrug.
Bydinnertime,everyoneisalreadytoosickofeachothertobotherwithpoliteconversation.DadchokesdownGrandma’sdryturkey,whileMomstompshisfootunderthetablewhenhishappy-go-luckyfa?adebeginstowearthin.Then,MomandUncleBilltosspassive-aggressivecommentsbackandforthoverwhodoesmoreforGrandmaFlo
Thisyearisdifferent.
GrandmaFlodidn’tinviteusfordinner.Instead,sheandhertwochildhoodgirlfriendstookanimprompturoadtriptothePlainridgeParkCasino,whichisentirelyoutofcharacter.Shedoesn’tevenapproveofbingoorscratchtickets.Taraisconvincedshe’sgoingthroughanelderlylifecrisis.
SincenoonewasawareofGrandma’swildcasinoplansuntiltwodaysago,we’rehavingalow-keyhotpotdinneratmyparents’placeinthesuburbs.
DadispleasedaboutthefoodbecausehegetstododgeGrandma’sturkeyuntilThanksgiving.HissideofthefamilyownsapopularChineserestaurant,sohe’simpossiblypickyaboutfoodquality
“Doyouhaveatleastsixmonths’salaryinyouremergencyfund?”Dadasksme,pattingthecornerofhismouthwithoneofthecarefullyhalvedtakeoutnapkinshehasahabitofhoarding.
Igroan.“Dad,seriously.Stopworrying.I’mnotspendingfrivolously.Mygymmembershipandallmyclothesaresponsored.IhaveahugecheckcominginthemailfromNike.AndIhavemorethanenoughmoneysavedandinvestedforthefuture,justincase.”
Sincethebeefbrothstartedsimmering,Dadhasbeenonawell-intentionedrantabouthowIneedtoreevaluatemycareeroptions,givenmycurrentincomeis“temporary.”Heconstantlybadgersmeaboutgettinga“realjob”forthesakeof“long-termfinancialsecurity.”Evenafterthesuccessofhiscommercialcleaningbusiness,hestillpinchespennies,totheextreme.TaraandIevensignedhimuptobeonTLC’sExtremeCheapskates.Whentheproducerscalledhimandaskedhimtobeontheshow,hedeclinedandrefusedtospeaktousforfivedays.
“Idon’tmeantocutyoudown.Yourfitnessaccountisagreathobby.ButI’myourfather.It’smyjobtoworryaboutyou.”HecastsagrimglanceatmeasImixmydippingsauce.
HeneverhideshisdisappointmentthatIdidn’tfollowtheplanofjoiningcorporateAmericaaftergettingmybusinessdegreeatNortheasternlikeagoodChinesegirl.Butbymythirdyear,Iwasalreadymakingsignificantlymorethanatypicalentrancesalarythroughendorsementsandpaidpostsalone.Itseemedridiculoustosettleforlessmoney,beingstuckinablandcubiclefromninetofive,andtakingordersfromadisgruntledbabyboomerwhodoesn’tknowmyname.
MomwouldusuallyechoDad’sgrievances,buttonight,she’svisiblyshookoverGrandmaFlo.“Ijustfinditbizarre,”shesaysoutofnowhere,clumsilydippingherbeefintothesoysauce.AfteralmostthirtyyearsofmarriagetoDad,shehasyettomastertheartofchopsticks.Dexterityisn’therthing.
“MaybeshewantedtohavearelaxedEasterthisyear,sinceBillandShannonarewiththekidsinEurope,”Dadsuggests.
“Butacasino?Onareligiousweekend?She’sadevoutCatholic.”Momshakesherhead,clutchingatremblingHillaryinherarms.TherestofusdetesthavingHillaryatthetablelikeahuman,butMomrefusestorelent,takingitasapersonalattackwhenwecomplain.Infact,shespendshalfhertimetalkingtoherinsteadofus.
Inod,swallowingamushroomwhileavoidingHillary’sbeadylittleblackeyes.“You’reright.Somethingdoesn’taddup.”
Tarastrugglestoextractafishballfromthehotpot.“GiveGrandmaabreak.TheholidayshavebeentoughonhersinceGrandpa.”
I’dneverreallythoughtaboutitlikethat.Grandpa’sdeaththreeyearsagohasbeenroughoneveryone,particularlyGrandma.“Maybe.ButIthoughtshelovedhosting.”
“Shedoes,”Taraagrees.“Ifshedidn’twanttostickaroundtohostthisyear,theremustbeareason.”
AmentalimageofagrievingGrandmaFlomakesmyheartache.“WhatifItrytocallherrightnow?Seehowshe’sdoing?”Isuggest.
Momleansin,cradlingHillary,practicallydiggingherelbowintomine.“Yeah.Let’scheckinonher.”
Dadletsoutanextendedsighbeforetakingagulpofhiswater.
BeforeTaraorDadcanprotest,I’vealreadyhitCallandsetittospeakerphone.Ittrillsfivetimesbeforeshepicksup.
“Hello?”Hershrillvoiceshattersmyeardrum.
Cringing,Iholdthephonefartherawayfrommyear.“Hi,Grandma.It’sCrystal.”
“Oh,Crystal.Hi.”Awkwardsilence.It’squietwhereversheis.Therearen’tanyofthedingsandchimesyou’dexpecttohearinacasino.“Listen,IgotyourtextonFacebookaboutmyappointmentnextweekandImeanttoputathumbs-up,butIhitthepoopbuttoninstead.YouknowhowIamwiththosedarntouchscreens.Goodthingyoudidn’tinheritmywideMcCarthythumbs.Ihopeyouweren’ttoooffended,dear.”TaraandIlookateachotherandtrynottocrackup.TheseemojiblundersarecommonplaceforGrandmaFlo.Lastmonth,sheinsertedfiveLaugh-CryingFaceemojisonaRestinPeaceFacebookeulogypostforherrecentlydeceasedfriend.She’dmistakenitforasadface.“HappyEaster,bytheway,”sheadds.
“Noworries.Ifiguredthepoopemojiwasamistake.AndhappyEastertoyoutoo.Iwasjustcallingtoseehowyourgirls’tripisgoing.Anybigcasinowinnings?”
“Casino?”Shepausesforamoment,asifI’vejustinquiredaboutlifeonMars.Imeetmyfamily’ssuspiciousgazesasshebumbleson.“Oh,right.Yes.Thecasino.It’sgood.Nowinnings,though,”shesayswithshakylaughter.
“Whatgameshaveyouplayed?”Mompipesin.ShesetsHillarydown,whichresultsinmoreincessantwhining.“Patience!Don’tberude,”shefury-whisperstoher,asifHillaryisahumanchild.
There’sanotherpausefromGrandma.“Uh,bridge.”
“Bridge?Atacasino?”Mom’snostrilsflare.
“Oh,sugar.Imeantblackjack.”
SilencelingersasDadstandstodumpmorebrothintothehotpot.Grandmahasneversetfootinacasinoinherentirelife.She’sclearlylying.Butwhy?
Icontemplategoingfulldetectivemode,picturingSquatRackThief’spenetratingglarewhenIhidhisphone.ButIblinkmyselfback,suddenlyfeelingguilty.IfGrandmafeelstheneedtocomeupwithanelaboratelietogetsomespacethisEaster,whoamItobebothered?
“Well,um,I’mgladyou’rehavingfun.”Idecidetoletheroffthehook,giventhatMomisleaninghalfwayacrossthediningtable,readytolaunchintoaninterrogation.“Wemissyou.”
“Imissyouguystoo.Yourdadmustbepleasedhedoesn’thavetoeatmyturkeythisyear,”Grandmasaysknowingly
Dad’seyesgrowwide.“Didyoutellher?”hewhisperstoMom,whoshakesherheadinunconvincingdenial.
“Well,I’dbettergetgoing.Loveyou,dear!”Grandmasays,beforethelinecuts.
Iblinkslowly,stirringmydippingsauceasIdigestthebizarreconversation.“Whatwasthatallabout?”
Momflattensherlips,hoistingHillarybackontoherlap.“Shewasdefinitelynotatthecasino.”
???
FOLLOWINGTHESTRANGEcallwithGrandmaFlolastnight,aswellassomenastycommentsonthelaunchofmySizePositivecampaign,Idistractmyselfatthegym.It’sempty,asexpectedonEasterweekend.Eventhestaffareoff,makingthefacilityaccessiblesolelyviaswipepass.Apparently,gymbrosalsotakeEasterofftocelebrate,becauseit’sonlymeandtwootherwomenkillingitintheGymBroZone.
ThispositivefemaleenergyisdilutedthemomentSquatRackThiefstompsthroughtheturnstiles,emittingenoughtestosteronetofilltheentirefacility.He’swearinghisnormalballcap,trackpants,andadarkgreenhoodie,whichbringsoutthemossyhuesinhiseyes.Wemakereluctanteyecontactashestalkspastme,prowlinghiswaytothechangingroom.
Despitegloweringateachotherseveraltimesduringourrespectiveworkouts,wekeepourdistance.He’sdoingalegday.I’mfocusingonbicepsandshoulders.
Thisstrange,silenttruceisactuallytolerable.Maybenowwecanreturntobeingcompletestrangers,despitethefactthatheknowsmyname,profession,andInstagramhandle,allofwhichareeasilyexploitablepiecesofinformation
SpeakingofInstagram,Ineedtocheckmyemails.I’mwaitingforMaxine,aparticularlyneedyclient,toconfirmourvirtualcheck-inthisafternoon.ButwhenIcomeupforairfrommydownwarddogpositiontograbmyphone,itisn’tonthematwhereIleftit.ToensureI’mnotdelusional,Iretracemysteps,scanningtheflooraroundallthemachinesIusedtoday.Butit’snowhereinsight.
Unlessmyphonedisappearedintothinair,there’sonlyoneotherexplanation.IzeroinonSquatRackThief,who’scurrentlyoccupiedontheinnerandouterthighmachine.Seemingly,ourtruceisnullandvoid.
Tiredandgrouchy,Imarchinfrontofhim,handonhip.“Alright,I’mdonewiththisgame.Justgivemebackmyphone.”
Hestaresatme,mid-set.“You’dhavetobesickandderangedtostealsomeone’sphoneatthegym.”
“Ididn’ttakeyourphone.Isimplystoreditforsafekeeping.”
“Ididn’ttakeyourphoneeither,Crystal.”Hesmileseversoslightly,drunkwithpowerwhenhesaysmyname.
“Youdid,”Ishootback.“Ihaditwithmetheentiretime.ExceptwhenIwasstretching.Ileftitonthemat.”
Hegrimacesashecompleteshislastrep.Lettingthetensiongoonthemachine,heleansforward,breathinghard.“Someoneelsemusthavetakenit,then,becauseIdidn’t.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“Well,believeit.Idon’thaveit.”Heopenshispalmstoproclaimhisfakeinnocence.“AlthoughIkindofwishIdid.ImaginealltheTinderingIcoulddoonyourbehalf.”He’sovercomewithgleeattheverythought.
Ignoringhim,Inodtowardhislowerhalf,whichlooksfartooappealinginthoselow-hangingUnderArmourshorts.“Emptyyourpockets,”Idemand.
Hegetsupfromthemachine,shovinghishandsinhispockets,extractinghisownphone.“See?”
Idon’tknowwhat’scomeoverme,butIreachouttopatbothofhispocketsmyself,likeanoverzealousTSAagentattheairport.Hispocketsarelightandempty,exceptforthejingleofhiskeys.Nosignofmyphone.
“Didyoujustfriskme?”Hisdeep,rumblinglaughtermakesmyinsidescoilinawayitshouldn’t.
Iscoff,quicklylosinginterest.Myphoneisdefinitelynotinhispockets.Ifhedidn’ttakeit,whotheheckdid?
Idartawaytoconductonelastthoroughinspectionofthegym.Irackmybrainforpossibleexplanations.Didoneoftheladiesliftingstealit?Bothofthemwerecompletelyunassuming.Normal.Middle-aged.Mom-energy.Matchinglow-maintenancehairstyles.Onewasevenwearingatennisvisor.CertainlynotthetypewhowouldconspiretostealadentediPhone10withatackybedazzledcasefromaclearancebininChinatown.Butthenagain,anyonecanbeaklepto.
ThechillingpossibilitieslingerupuntilSquatRackThiefslinkspastme,snickeringasI’mbentoverlikeanidiot,peeringintothedirt-filledcrevicesoftheshoulderpress.
Iwhiparound,followinghimlikeadogtoabone.“Youhiditsomewhere,didn’tyou?”
Hespinsonhisheel,walkingbackwardpastthetreadmillsatasnail’space.“Believeme,ifIwantedtomesswithyou,Icouldthinkofmuchbetterwaystogetunderyourskin.”Thewickedwayhesaysgetunderyourskin,sodeepandvelvetysmooth,nearlyknocksthewindoutofmychest.Butonlymomentarily.
Iletoutaliteralgrowlasheducksintothemen’schangingroom,outofsight.
AwaftofAxebodysprayassaultsmysenseswhenIcometoanabrupthaltinthedoorway.Itakeaquickscanaround.TherearenoothermeninthegymrightnowexceptforSquatRackThief.AndIneedmyphone.Myclientiswaitingforme.Ican’tbeano-show.Ipridemyselfonbeingreliable,ontime,andalwaysthereformyclients.Myentirebrandandreputationrestonthis.
Screwit.chapterfive
ENTERINGTHEMEN’Schangingroomisforeign.Thelayoutisidenticaltothewomen’schangingroom—rowsoflockersinthefront,showersandtoiletsintheback.Butit’slikeI’vesteppedintoNarnia,orabeast’slair.ThesimplefactthatI’mnotsupposedtobeinheresendsapangofnervousenergytricklingdownmyspineasIcreeppastthefirstrowoflockers.
Onthebrinkofabortingthisentiremission,IspotSquatRackThiefinthesecondrow.He’sriflingaroundinhislocker,hisbarebacktome.Itakeamomenttoadmirethehardridgesofmuscleovermusclethatmakeuphistorso.Hehasoneofthosetaperedshapes.Broadshouldersandnarrowwaist.
I’mnotsupposedtoseethis.Mypalmsaren’tsupposedtogetclammy.Myearsaren’tsupposedtoburn.Mybodyisn’tsupposedtobetinglysouthofmybellybutton.I’veofficiallybecomeaPeepingTom,acreeper,avoyeur.Isqueezemyeyesshut.IreallyoughttoturnaroundandgetoutofDodge.IfIleavenow,IcanforgetIeversawthis.ButIcanallowmyselfonemorelook,right?Justone.
Ibethe’soneofthoseguyswiththedamnV.Theoutlinethatgoesstraightdowntothe…
Shit.Heis.Lifeiscruel.WhatdidIdotodeservethisharshfate?
He’sfullyfacingmenowandIhavenoideawheretocastmyeyes.Hisprominentsix-pack?Thedustingoflightbrownhaironhischest?HisV?Hishulkingshouldermuscles?Hisgorgeouseyes,widewithsurprisewhenheseesmestandingtherelikethestalkerIam?Hisbodyisaworkofart.ItbelongsinaParisianmuseum,protectedbyvelvetropeandanarmoredguard.
Heappraisesme,lipscurvingintoahalfsmile.He’sbothamusedandunderstandablyconfused.“Crystal.HowcanIbeofassistancetoyou?”
Iwidenmystance,recallingtherealreasonI’mhere,whichdoesnotinvolvehungrilyadmiringSquatRackThief’sbodyinanyway,shape,orform.AndI’mdefinitelynotgoingtofantasizeaboutitlater.
“Iknowyoutookmyphone.Stopmessingwithmeandgiveitbacknow.”
Heletsoutahalflaugh,asifI’mcertifiablyinsane.AndmaybeIam.Butmyentirelifeisonthatphone.Photos.Pre-editedbusinesscontent.Videos.Myclients’workoutplans.Theworstpart:IranoutofiCloudstoragemonthsagoandwastoolazytobuymore.IfIlosethisphone,Iloseitall.
“Yousureyou’renotalittleconfusedandexhaustedfromallthoseshoulderpresses?”heasks,unabletosquashhispatronizingamusement.
“Idon’tgetexhausted.Ever.Iappreciatetheconcern,though,”Iadd,voicesweeterthanGrandmaFlo’ssugarpie.
“Oh,Icouldexhaustyou.”Hiseyesblaze,andInearlychokeattheinnuendo(whetherheintendeditornot).“Infact,Ithinkyou’realreadyattheendofyourropewithmerightnow.”
“Notevenclose.”
“Itreallydoesn’ttakemuchtogetyouallriledup.”Hisgravellyvoicealmostdistractsmeasheinchesinfrontofhisopenlocker.
Myeyesdartbehindhim.Itisn’tacoincidencethatheshiftedhisbodyinfrontofhislockerlikeabodyguardstationedoutsideanightclub.He’sholdingmyphonehostageinthere.I’mconvinced.
Likeapantherfocusedonitsprey,Istormtowardhim.
We’reface-to-face,chestsheaving,connectedinyetanotherface-off.Butthistime,hischestisbare,andI’mlosingthebattletoresistoglinghimwitheachpassingsecond.
Todistractmyself,Isearchhisfacefarandwideforsomethingtocritique.Anythingatall.AndIcomeupempty.Ihadn’tnoticeduntilnowthathispupilsaresurroundedbysoftringsofgold.
Theseverityofhisexpressiontemperswithaslightbrowraise.Itakeitasasignofweakness.It’smytimetopounce.
Igazelefttofakehimoutbeforemakingabreakforhislocker.AsIstickmyhandin,heblocksmewithhisshoulder.Iattempttopushhimbackwardwithmyforearms,buthisbodyislikeasturdytree.Oneofthosemajesticthree-thousand-year-oldtreesinYosemite.Hedoesn’tevenbudge.
Hewatchesme,mouthtwistedinamusementasIstepbackinahuff.“You’renotgettinginmylocker,”hesays,asifit’sjustpurefact,assimpleasoneplusoneequalstwo.Heextendshisarmtotheside,palmagainstthelocker,blockingmefromanyfutureattempt.ButIdon’tgiveupthateasily.
Fullyawareofhisstrength,Imakeonelastgoofit.
HestopsmeasIlungetowardhim,placinghishandssquareonmyshoulders.Heturnsmeswiftlyyetgentlyagainstthelockers.“Keeptryingallyouwant.Icandothisallday.”
Thecoolnessofthemetalagainstmybackoffsetsthewarmthofmyskin.Idesperatelytrytoignorehowhesmoothlycircleshisrightthumbovermyshoulder.Hishoodedeyesholdmyentirebodycaptive,despitethefactthathisgripisn’tallthattight.He’snotholdingmehereagainstmywill.Icouldprobablyleaveatanytime.Infact,Iprobablyshould.ButIdon’t,andIdon’tknowwhy.
Idon’tdareblink.Blinkingisfortheweak.Weonlybreakeyecontactwhenhisgazeflickerstomylips.Iglanceathistoo.They’renottoothinandnottoothick.Infact,they’reperfect.Myinnercavewomandesperatelywantstofeelthemagainstmine.Andthat’swhenIquestionmysanity.Iftherewasanappropriatefemaleequivalentto“thinkingwithyourdick,”mymugshotwouldberightalongside.TherealCrystal,awomanoflogicandallthingspractical,wouldneverbeattractedtothisinfuriatingasshole.
Unexpectedly,hislipsbrushagainstmine,stealingmyair.Heatflushesthroughmelikeaviolenttsunami,readytoobliterateeverythinginitswake.Allofmyinternalorgansclench.Mymusclesseize.Myeyesclose.Mytoescurl.
AmIevenstillalive?Didhereallyjustkissme?
I’mfrozeninplaceandtime.Ican’tphysicallymove.
Hiskissisfeatherlight,testing,asifhe’sunsureifheshouldcontinue.Hetastesfamiliarsomehow,mintyandfresh,bringingmealiveslowlybutsurely.Hishandsloosenonmyshoulders,asifconfidentIwon’tpullawayfromhim.Hisrighthanddriftsupthenapeofmyneckandintomyhair.
Ipanic,becausemyhairisatangled,sweatyrat’snest.ButasIfeelthepadsofhisfingersstrokingupanddownthebackofmyskull,I’mlostinthismoment.Iwanttosavoritforever.Itiltmychinupwardtodeepenthekiss,whichhetakesgreedily.There’satremorinhishandasthepadofhisthumbskatesovermycheekbone.Noonehasevertouchedmyfacelikethis,asiftreasuringeverycurveandline.
It’sonlynowthatIrealizemyarmsarehanginglikedeadnoodles.Isnakemyhandsuphishardstomach,overtheridgesofhisshoulders.Hismusclesclenchundermypalms.I’mpracticallyonmytiptoeswhenIlockmyfingersbehindhisneck,pullinguscompletelyflush.Heletsoutatinysighofreliefintomymouth.
Hislipsopenandcloseagainstmineinaslowrhythm.Imoanintohim,andhepullsbackforhalfasecond.There’sastormychangeinhiseyesastheydarkentoanelectricmossyhue,mynewfavoritecolor.Theairshiftsaroundus,asifwe’reintheeyeofachaotictwister.
It’sdesperate,needy,wild.Ipullhimdown,closertomeuntilIcanfeelhim,hardagainstmystomach.
Ourkissesdevolveintoafranticflurryofhairpulling,teethclinking,andlipbiting.Thefurtherhistonguegoes,thedeeperIslipintoahaze,adaydreamthatIneverwanttowakefrom.Everytimehislipsdaretoleavemineforasplitsecond,Ipullhimbacktome,harder,closingthegapbetweenus,wantingmoreandmore.
WhoamIandhowdidIendupmakingoutwithastrangerinthemen’slockerroom?Ireallyoughttotearmyselfawayandrun.
Butthefeelingofhislipsonmineislikeanexplosionofeuphoria.OfeverythingIwantandneed.Theperfecttaste.Theperfectsensation.Theperfectpressure.Theperfecteverything.
Hishanddipsaroundmybottom,hookingunderneathmyrightthigh,liftingitaroundhiswaist.Alowgroanescapeshismouth,vibratingintomineasmyhipsrollagainsthis,sendingablindingjolttotheforgottencornersofmybody.Hislipsdarthungrilytothesideofmymouth,downmyjaw,andovermyneckashehoistsmeoffthegroundcompletely.Hebacksmeupagainstthelockeragain,mylegshookedaroundhiswaist.
I’veneverbeenpickedupbyamanbefore.Tocallthis“exhilarating”istheunderstatementofthecentury.
“Fuck,”hewhispersinmyearasIrockagainsthim,onehandlinkedaroundhisneck,theothergrippinghishair.He’slookingatme,notthroughme.Inallmyhookups,Idon’tthinkI’veeverheldeyecontactforlongerthantwosecondsbeforelookingaway.Infact,Idon’tevenrememberlinkingeyeswithNeil.
SquatRackThief’sexpressionistheperfectmixtureofpleasure,adoration,andsincerity.Ididn’tknowhewashumanlycapableofthis.Irevelinit.Ilosemyselfinit.
I’mabouttospontaneouslycombustfromthepressurealonewhenthechangingroomdoorsqueaksopen.
Hisheadjoltsbackinthedirectionofthedoor.Hismusclesclenchandseizeunderneathme,holdingmeinplaceforabreath.AllIwanttodoiscapturethismomentandfreezeitintime.OureyesarestilllockedashesetsmedownmoregentlythanI’dexpect,flashingmeaShit,we’rebustedlook.
Astout,baldingmanbarelycoveredbyanimpossiblytinytowelstrollsaroundthecorner,whistling.Red-facedfromthesauna,hestopsdeadinhistrackswhenhecatchessightofme,chestheaving,lipsswollen,cagedagainstalocker.Ionlyseetheman’sstunnedreactionforafractionofasecond,becauseSquatRackThiefshifts,asifprotectingmefromsight.
Iblink,thesilenceyankingmebacktoreality.Cheeksburninglikethefieryflamesofhell,IinchpastSquatRackThiefandscrambleoutofthechangingroomwithoutlookingback.
Onmywaytotakeshelterinthewomen’schangingroom,Inearlybulldozeoneofthegymladiesfromearlier.Theonewiththevisor.
“Excuseme,hun.Isthisyourphone?”SheholdsmywhiteiPhoneinherextendedhand.“Accidentallytookitfromthematarea,thinkingitwasmine.Ileftmyphoneinthecartoday.Guessit’sjusthabit.”
Insteadofbeingecstatictobereunitedwithmybelovedphone,allIcanthinkis,Crap.
Iwasdeadwrong.
SquatRackThiefisinnocent.
“Oh,uh,thankyouforreturningit,”Imanagethroughmyfog.Icanbarelylookthisladyintheeyewithoutblushing.
Withmyphonesafelyinmypossession,Ispendatleasthalfanhourinthechangingroom,hunchedoveronthebenchinadaze.Ican’tleave.TheriskofcrossingpathswithSquatRackThiefonthewayoutistoogreat.HeprobablythinksI’matotalloon,falselyaccusinghimofstealingmyphoneandclimbinghimlikealadderinthechangingroom.
Despitemybestefforts,evenafterI’mshoweredanddressed,myheartratestubbornlyrefusestosettletoarestingBPM.chaptersix
IENTERTHEGYM,ballcaphanginglowovermyeyesinapoorattemptatgoingincognito,orasinvisibleaspossibleinhot-pinkLululemonleggings.Mygymbagsnagsontheturnstiles.Itugittwicebeforepullingitfree.
Whenthecombinationlockinmybagmakesaloud,echoingclunkagainstthestainless-steelturnstile,Claire,theredheadedgirlbehindthefrontcounter,holdsherhandoverhermouth.Shedoesapiss-poorjobofnotlaughinginmyface.
Somuchforstealthmode.
ItakeacautiousscanaroundasIheadforthechangingroom,fullyexpectingtomeetSquatRackThief’sinevitabletauntinglookfromoneofthemachinesI’mplanningtouse.Alltheregularsarehere.Theveinygymbros.Thehard-corefemalebodybuilderflexingupastorminthemirror,admiringherimpressive,award-winning,competition-readyfigure.YetSquatRackThiefisnowheretobefound.
Headdown,Ibusilyfilmmyplannedsegmentsfortheday.Buteverytimeatall,musculardudeentersthegym,mystomachfree-fallsandIdoadoubletake.I’monguard,justwaitingforhimtoshow.Buthedoesn’t.
Truthbetold,I’mrelieved.HowamIsupposedtofacehimagainafteryesterday?Itwasundoubtedlythehottestmomentofmylife,andmyclothesstayedontheentiretime.Infact,I’dgoasfarassayingitwasbetterthansex.I’dbelyingifIsaidIhadn’tthoughtaboutit.Alldayandnight.
Unfortunately,there’saninety-nine-percentchancehethinksIconcoctedthephonethieveryasanexcusetoattackhiminthechangingroom.Notonlydoesthatmakemelooklikeadesperate,sex-crazedlunatic,butIcan’thelpbutponderwhatwouldhavehappenedifthatbaldmanhadn’twalkedinandinterruptedus.Wouldwehavegoneanyfurther?Probably,givenweweredryhumpingagainstthelockers,mylegshoistedaroundhiswaistlikeapretzel.Andworse,Icatchmyselfwishingwehad,whichgoesagainstmyvowtotakeabreakfromrandomhookups.
Whilewedidn’tactuallyhavesex,nofacelessTinderrandomhasevermademefeel…thatbefore.Nolessanemesiswhorefusestotellmehisname.
IchastisemyselfformylingeringthoughtsofhimasIexitthegym,thighsalreadyburningfrommyworkout.Imustresistthinkingaboutthatman,nomatterhowmanyabshehas,orhowdeephisVlineis.
BythetimeI’mhalfablockawayfromhome,mymindhasspiraledintohypotheticals.Whatifhe’savoidingme?Hemustbe.Eitherthat,orhe’scomedownwithasuddenillness,orheperishedinafreakaccident.Avoidanceisthemostlogicalexplanation,though.It’snocoincidencehe’ssuddenlychangedhisscheduleafterdaysofcomingtothegymattheexactsametime.Obviouslyhedoesn’twanttofaceme.
Maybehecan’tstomachtheawkwardness,similartohowIlongtodisappearintodustandnothingnesswhenIseeTinderJoe,who,bytheway,stillactslikeIdon’texist.
IattempttopushSquatRackThiefoutofmymindasIcheckthemailinthelobbyandheaduptomyapartment,flyers,bills,andamassivepackageofsponsoredproteinbarsinhand.
ThemomentIopenthefrontdoor,I’munexpectedlygreetedbyabright-eyed,newlypermedGrandmaFlowieldingabatter-coveredwhisk.She’swearingTara’sflour-coveredapron,whichreadsGETSOME
BeforeIcanevenaskwhyGrandmaFloisinmyapartment,thewhiskishalfwaydownmythroat,chokingme.“Doyoutastethebutter?”shedemands,luminoushazeleyesboringintominelikeanoperativeinterrogatingtheirlatestcaptiveunderseizure-inducingfluorescentlights.
WhenIgagdramatically,shetakesmercyandremovesthewhisk.“Uh,yeah.Itastethebutter.Why?”Iask,catchingaglimpseofTarasnickeringonthecouchamongapileofbooks.
TarafollowedmeontheInstagramtrain.She’sabookstagrammer,someonewhoreads483,398booksayearandpostsreviews.Withthousandsoffollowers,shereceivesstacksoffreebooksinthemailfrompublisherswhowanthertoadvertiseandreviewupcomingreleases.Remindinghertokeepherbooksinherroominsteadoflitteringmylivingroomwiththemhasbecomemysecondjob.Taramakessomemoneyfromherbookstagram,butcertainlynotenoughtowarrantitbeingafull-timejob,whichistheonlythingthatsavesherfromMomandDad’sdisapproval.Shehasa“proper”jobasaregisterednurseintheneonatalwardatthechildren’shospital.
Satisfiedwithmyresponse,GrandmaFloswivelsbacktomykitchen,stilltalking.“Atthechurchpotluck,JanineaskedEthelifmyshortbreadwasstore-bought.Thegumption!”
JanineFitzgeraldisGrandmaFlo’schurchnemesis.Asthestorygoes,theirrivalrybeganoveracovetedchurchpewandwentdownhillafteraparticularlydramaticBiblestudy.Ionlyhalf-listenasGrandmagoesonalong-windedrantabouthowJaninelikestoholdherhandsintheairduringsermons,purposelytoblockherview.
IplopontothecouchbesideTara.“Howlonghasshebeenhere?”Iask,voicelow.
“Twohours.Shesaidshehadsomebusinessinthecity.ShewalkedinonmewhileIwasnaked.Didn’tevenbothertoknock.”
“Whywereyounakedinmyapartment?”Ifury-whisper.“Andaren’tyousupposedtobedoingashiftatthehospital?”Ikickoffmyrunningshoesandtosstheunopenedmailonthecoffeetable.
Sheshakesherhead,promptlyignoringmyfirstquestion.“Yeah.Igotsenthomeearly.”
Thelookonherfacetellsmethere’sastoryhere,soIremainsilent,justwaiting.
“Iwastheunfortunatevictimofpea-greenexplosivediarrhea.”
Icovermymouth,stiflingabubbleoflaughterasIopenmylaptoptobeginmyworkoutplanforavirtualclientinArkansas.“That’sthebestthingI’veheardallday.”
“Itwassopotent.Youwouldhavefainted,”shesays,expressiongrave.
“Anyway,whyisGrandmahere?”Iask.
Taraopenshermouth,itchingtospillthetea,butstopswhenGrandmaFloemergesfromthekitchen,plateofcookiesinhand.ShesetstheminfrontofTara,whoshefeelsis“muchtoothin”andatriskof“witheringaway”atanygivenmoment.
Aftersettlingintothechair,shefusseswithoneofmytinysucculentsonthesidetable.Apparentlyunsatisfiedwithitsstate,shecarelesslydumpstheremainderofTara’steaoverthetop.RIPsucculent.GrandmaFlohasneverhadagreenthumb.
“Asyouknow,IcanceledEasterthisyear,”GrandmaFlostartsslowly,choosingherwordscarefully.Shedelays,pickingataloosethreadinthestitchingofmychair.
Ihalf-closemylaptoptogivehermyfullattention.“Wereyouactuallyatthecasino?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No.Iwas..withsomeone.”
“Withsomeone?”TaraandIasksimultaneously.
Sheflashesusherringhand,unveilingwhatlookslikearuby,flankedbyanelegantyellow-goldband.“I’mengaged.”Sheholdsherbreath,asifbracingforourreaction.
WhileTaralaunchestoherfeetandshrieksindelight,practicallycrushingGrandmawithahug,Isinkintothecouch,onlynarrowlysavingmylaptopbeforeittopplestothefloor.Mymindrefusestocomputeherwords.“Engaged?”Whatfreshhell?
TheonlymanIcanpictureGrandmaFlowithisGrandpa.Thoughhepassedawayofbonecancerthreeyearsago,Ineverimaginedshewoulddateagain.IthinkabouthowtheyusedtositsidebysideinmatchingLa-Z-BoyswatchingWheelofFortuneandJeopardy!everysinglenight.OrhowtheirwildnightsoutconsistedofattendingaTuesdaysermon,thenheadinghomeateighttodevourabagofChexMixwhilegossipingabouttheirfellowchurchgoers.
“Ididn’tevenknowyouweredating.”ThewordssoundforeigncomingoutofmymouthasIturntoTara.“Didyouknow?”
“No,”Tarasays.“Isn’titfunny,though?Grandmahasamoreactivedatinglifethanus.”Shestaresatthespaceonherfingerwherehermassiveprincess-cutdiamondusedtosit.I’mhalfconvincedoneoftheworstpartsofherbreakupwasgivingupthering.
“Whoareyoumarrying?”Iask,turningmyattentionbacktothematterathand.
“MartinRitchie,”Grandmasays,smilinglikealovesickbabydeer.
Taracutsin.“Oh!Weknowhim.Theguythatlivesdownthestreetfromyou,right?”
Grandmanodswithpride.“Theveryone.”
“Thatguy?Really?TheonewiththemustachewhoyouandGrandpausedtoplaybocceballwith?”Iconjureupablurryimageofhisthick,eighties-porn-starmustacheinmymind.Hewasalwaysinastripedpoloshirt,fromwhatIcanremember.
GrandmaFlogoesonarambleabouthowactiveMartinis.Somethingaboutboatingandtennis.HereyesgomistyandsentimentalasshedetailstheirweekendgetawayonCapeCod.Theseafood.Herseasickness.Hisunwaveringsupport.Theromanticsunsetproposal.Ibarelyabsorbaword.Idon’tknowhowtoprocessthisinformation.Itisn’tthatI’mupsetshecanceledourfamilyEastertradition.It’sthefactthatshe’sessentiallybeenleadingadoublelife.
“Wow.Imean,I’mshocked.ButI’mhappyforyou,”Iforceout,alongwithasweetgranddaughter-esquesmile.“Whenisthewedding?”
Sheshrugs.“Wehaven’tgottenthatfar.Asummerweddingwouldbenice,thoughit’ssuchshortnotice.We’dbehardpressedtofindanyavailablevenues—”
AwheezygaspcomesoutofTara’sthroat,startlingme.Shelookslikeshe’sjustcomeupwithacureforalife-threateningdisease.“OhmyGod.Istillhavemyweddingvenue.TheSheraton.Andmostofmyvendors.”
Grandmablinks.“Youdidn’tcancelthem?”
“Notyet.They’reholdingmydepositsandIthought…maybetherewashopeSethwouldchangehismind.”Shepauses,chintrembling.“Buthewon’t.Soyoucanhaveitallifyouwant.Thenallthatmoneyandplanningwon’tgotowaste.”
ThefurrowdeepensbetweenGrandmaFlo’sthinbrowsassheconsidersthisbizarreproposition.
Igriptheedgesofmylaptop,studyingTara’sunreadableface.“Andyou’dbeokaywiththis?”Ihonestlydon’tknowhowI’dfeelwitnessingsomeoneelsewalkdowntheaisleatmyvenue,onmydate,withmydécorandmusic,knowingitwassupposedtobeme.
“Iam,actually.”Taralooksgenuine.Bythewayshe’sloweredhershoulders,Ithinkshemightevenbealittlerelieved.“YouknowDadwouldbeallforit.Itwouldberesponsibleandeconomical.”ShemimicsDad’svoice.
GrandmaFlosmilesinagreement.“Youknow,IthinkImighttakeyouuponthat.I’dhavetodiscussitwithMartyfirst,butI’msurehewilllovetheidea.”
AssheandTaraembraceinasentimentalmoment,ItrytoenvisionwhatGrandmaisgoingtowear.Willshegoforatraditionalbridalgown?Aballgown?Somesortofelegantpantsuit?Thewholethingisbizarreandnearimpossibletoimagine,asI’veonlyeverseenherwearhersignatureGrandmaoutfits.Theonesadornedwithnaturepatternsonthefront.Apairofloons.Amapleleaf.Afox.Certainlynotaweddingdress.
“Oh,thatremindsme,”GrandmaFlosays,claspingherhandstogether.“Doyouhaveplanstomorrownight?”
“Idon’tthinkso.”Irestmyheadagainstthebackofthecouchandstareattheceiling,silentlywillinglifetoreturntoasimplertimewhenGrandmaFlowasn’ttakingoverTara’swedding.Betteryet,whenIwasn’tclimbingmynamelessnemesisinthegymaftervowingoffrandomhookups.Ineedastrongdrink.
“Good.I’dlikeyoutomeetMartin’sfamily.WemadeareservationatMammaMaria’s.”
Iletoutaprolongedsighatthethoughtofspendingmynightsocializingwithstrangers.Taracoversupmyless-than-enthusiasticresponsebyfawningoverthering,interspersedwithdetailedweddingtalk.Ithrowintheoddnodandsquealsoastoappearsemi-thrilledwhilestillinshock.Grandmaeventuallypacksuptherestofhercookies(forMartin)andleaves,butnotbeforeexpressingdisapprovalofmyleggings,pointingoutmyseverecameltoe.
“Crystal.”Taratossesthesequinthrowpillowatmethemomentthedoorcloses.“Don’tyoudaregoallMeettheFockersonMartin.He’sasweetoldman.”
Itossthepillowback.Itbouncesoffherkneeandontothefloor.“WhatmakesyouthinkI’llgoRobertDeNiroonhim?Idon’townaliedetectortest.”
“Yet.”Shepauses.“Andbecausethat’sjustwhatyoudo.Yougointomama-bearmode.Oneveryone.”
Ipullback,browsknit.“No.Idon’t.”
Shegivesmeapointedlook,asifthisissomethingshe’sbeenmeaningtobringup.“You’vehatedeveryguyIeverdated.DidyouknowSethwasterrifiedofyou?Youdidn’tevenspeakawordtohimuntilprobablysixmonthsintoourrelationship.Andthatwasjusttoaskhimtoborrowhisveggiespiralizer.”
Istareather.Ineverdidgivethespiralizerback.Probablybecausezucchinipastahasbecomeastapleinmydiet,andalsobecauseIjustknewSethwasgoingtosuck.ButmaybeTarahasapoint.ThelastthingIwanttodoisupsetGrandmaFloifshe’sfoundasecondchanceathappiness.
“I’llbenice.Ipromise.”chapterseven
MARTINNOLONGERhasamustache.I’vespentthepasthalfhourstaringatthebareskinofhisupperlip,aswellasthesizablemoleonhisneck.There’sahairpokingoutofthecenterthatI’mresistingtheurgetopluck.
He’sbeendroningonandonabouthismanyfamilymembersastheyentertheprivateroomintherestaurant.Hesparesnodetailwiththebackstories,likehowhisgreat-niecegotstraightA’sineverycourseinherlatestcollegesemesteratDukedespitedealingwithasbestosinherdormroom.
Iknowhe’sjustbeingfriendly,tryingtoacquaintourfamilies.Butfindingoutthebreadthofhiseldestdaughter’slatestshinglesflare-upisn’texactlyidealconversationpriortoeatingafour-courseItaliandinner.
“Crystal,canyoucomehereforasecond?”Mominterrupts.Shetugsatmyelbow,giftingMartinamassivelyfakesmile.I’veinheritedherinabilitytotemperherfacialexpressions,particularlywhensheisdispleased.
“Yeah?”Iwhisper,leaningin.
Mom’snervousgazefluttersaroundthecandlelitroom,takingintheawkwardnessthatisourtwofamilies,standingdividedoneithersideofthetable.
Mom’ssideofthefamily,theMcCarthys,areaformalbunch.We’reasmallgroup,withMomonlyhavingherbrotherandhistwokids.We’renotoverlyboisterous,liketheChens,Dad’ssideofthefamily.
EveryoneistryingtoremaincalmandcollectedwhilefeelinghellauncomfortableatthesightthatisGrandmaFlodrapingherentirebodyoverMartinonthechaiselounge,posingharderthanTyraBanksforphotos.Martinhasn’tstoppedshoweringherwithcringeworthyaffectionallevening.
Martin’sfamilyappearstobeyourstandardwhite,down-to-earth,Midwestern,American-born-and-bredcrowd.Hehasthreekids,plustheirgrownchildren,andabunchofsiblings,allenthusiasticallytalkingabouttheircottagesandtheupcomingfishingseason.They’realsotakingadvantageoftheopenbar,cheerfullyslappingeachotheronthebackandshoutingmanydecibelstooloudforthisroom.
“Justwantedtosaveyoufromtheshinglesconversation.”Momwinks,pushingherbangsfromhereyes.Afteroneconversation,it’sclearMartinisanoversharer.TheoppositeofGrandpa’sperpetuallycrusty,reservednature.
“Howareyoufeelingaboutitall?”Iaskhersympathetically.She,ofanyone,probablytookthisnewsthehardest.ShewasreallyclosetoGrandpa.TaraclaimedMomwasfine,butIdon’ttrusther,givenherparanoiaI’llchannelRobertDeNiroandruintheentiredinner.
Momfiddleswithherchampagneflute,forcinganothergrin.“Fine.Whywouldn’tIbe?IfGrandmaishappy,soamI.”ApparentlyTarawasn’texaggerating.
Shehasapoint.Grandmalookssofulloflife,dressedinaclassygoldlacedressandmatchingshawl.Hershortgrayhairisneatlystyledintoold-schoolwaves.SheisstilltuckedunderMartin’sarm,mid–JuliaRobertslaugh,ashegazesatherlikeshe’sthelightofhislife.
“Youlookgorgeoustonight.”Momtakesinmynavycocktaildress.“It’sbeenawhilesinceI’veseenyououtofyourLulus.”Asmuchasshe’ddenyit,Iknowhercommentisaslightagainstmycareerchoice.
“YouknowIcan’twearanythingbutAlignleggingsfortherestofmylife,”Isay,decidingthisisn’tthetimeortheplacetogetintoit.Andbesides,theseleggingsareeverything.Lululemoncreditsmeforconvertinghundredsofwomentotheglorious,life-changingcomfortthatistheirAlignlegging.“NoHillarytonight?”
MomletsoutasorrowfulsighandIimmediatelyregretbringingitup.“Therestaurantwouldn’tallowitwithoutproperpaperworktoproveshe’saservicedog.”
Ilevelahardstareather.“Mom,Hillaryisnotaservicedog.Youhavetostoptellingpeoplethat.”
Momclutchesherchest,appalledthatIwentthere.“She’slikeatherapydogtome.”
“Wetalkedaboutthis.It’sarealcertification,youknow.Somepeopleneedthemforlegitimatehealthreasons.Notjustbecausethey’reobsessedwiththeirdogandcan’tleavethemalonewithouthavingameltdown.”
Momapparentlydisagrees,rollinghereyesindefiance.Shechugstherestofherchampagnelikeit’swaterasGrandmaFloannouncesit’sfinallytimetositdownfordinner.
Shemadenamecardsforeveryone,asshealwaysdoesforfamilydinners.Theysitamongthebrightlycoloredranunculusfloralarrangements,artfullypreparedbyTaraandMomearliertoday.
Unfortunately,thefamiliesarepurposelyintermixed,oneofusbetweentwoorthreeofthem,tohelpusgettoknoweachother.Anintrovert’sworstnightmare.
Ihavetheluxuryofsittingsmack-dabinbetweenMartinhimselfandaplacecardthatreadsScottinflowingcalligraphy.OfalltheRitchiefamilymembersIwasintroducedtotonight,Idon’trecallmeetinganyonenamedScott.Asthewaitersbegintoservethesalad,Inoticeeveryseatatthetableisfilled,exceptforScott’s.
Martinleansintome,crunchinghisCaesarsalad.Abitofcroutonfliesoutofhismouth,landingdangerouslyclosetomywrist,andIimmediatelysetitontomylapundertheprotectionofthetablecloth.“You’llbebesidemygrandson,Scotty.”Hegivesmeaglowingsmile,asifI’vehitthejackpotasfarasseatingarrangementsareconcerned.Joy.
I’mmomentarilydistractedbyDadthrowingMartin’ssonananimatedhigh-fiveacrossthetable.Dadisoneofthosepeoplewhocanwalkintoaroomfullofstrangersandexitfifteenminuteslaterwithnew,lifelongbestfriends.He’saquintessentialextrovert,thefirsttoarriveatasocialgatheringandalwaysthelasttoleave.
“LookslikeScottyisrunningabitlate,”Isay,eyeingtheemptychairbesideme.
Agreen-eyedwomanwithastylishbob,whomMartinintroducedasPatricia,hisdaughter-in-law,shiftsforwarddiagonallyacrossfromme.“Hetoldmehewascomingrightafterhisshift,”shesays,glancingatherwatch.Bythewayhernoseiswrinkledwithannoyance,I’massumingthat’shismother.
“He’safirefighter,mygrandson,”Martininformsmeproudly.“Followedinthefamilyfootsteps.”
IscanMartin,tryingtoimaginehimasafirefighterfortyyearsago,tonoavail.“Youmustbeproudofhim.”
GrandmaFlopipesupfromMartin’sotherside.“Oh,Tara,speakingofScotty.Waittillyouseehim.Themanisalooker.”
BothTaraandIshiftuncomfortablyinourseats.SinceTara’sfailedengagement,GrandmaFlohasbeenobsessedwithplayingmatchmakerforher.
Itisn’tthatIwantmygrandmothersettingmeupwithrandomdudes.Butoutofprinciple,Ionceaskedwhyshehasn’ttriedtosetmeup.Shewaveditoff,callingmeoneofthose“independenttypes.”Shethenfolloweditupbyadmiringmyface,goingonabouthowI’maperfectmixofmyparents,andhowrareitisthatI’dhavemymom’shazel-goldeyes.Complimentingmy“facialbeauty”istypicalwhenpeopletrytocompensate,falselyassumingI’minneedofaconfidenceboostwheremybodyisconcerned.
ForTara’ssake,Iattempttoshiftthefocusawayfromhersingleness.“IfScottissuchalooker,whyishesingle?”ItossinagrintoensureeveryoneknowsI’mjoking.
“He’snot.”MartinnodsbacktowardPatricia.“He’sdatingthatprofessionalfigureskater.Diana.Isn’the,Patricia?”
Patricianods.“They’vebeentogetheraboutsixmonthsnow.Thoughshe’sontourdoingDisneyonIce,”sheadds,distractedlyglancingatherwatchonceagain.“Idon’twantyouguystohavetowaitforhim.He’sprobablystillatwork,asusual.”
Martinshrugs.“Dutycalls.”
MyannoyancewiththistardyScottcharacteronlygrowsuponconfirmationthathe’sthesolereasonnooneexceptMartinhastouchedtheirsaladyet.It’salreadyseventhirty.Iatelightinanticipationofamassivemealtonight,bysevenatthelatest.Iwonderedwhytheyweredelayingcocktailsandappetizers.
MartinsetshishandoverthebackofGrandma’schairbeforepressingakissonhertemple.“Scottywon’tmindifwegetstarted.I’llgoaheadandstartmyspeech.”Hetosseshisclothnapkinontothetableinfrontofhim,standingwithhisfullglassofredwine.Everyoneshiftstheirattentiontohim.
“Beforeweeat,I’dberemissifIdidn’tthankmyfamilyandFlo’sfamilyforcomingthisevening,andTaraforgivingusanentirewedding,”headdswithawink,highlightingTara’smisfortuneforthefifthtimetonight.EveryonegigglesuncomfortablywhileTarawhite-knuckleshersaladfork.
“Idon’tknowifeveryoneknowsthis,butFloandIattendedthesameelementaryschool.Wewereclassmates,allthewayuntiltheeighthgrade.Shewasbyfartheprettiestgirlinclass,withherlittlepigtails,”hesaysaffectionately.“WhenIwas—”
Martin’sspeechisrudelyinterruptedwhenthedoortoourprivateroombustsopen.
TheRitchieseruptwithenthusiasm,shouting,“Scotty!”
Myeyessettleonthehulkingfiguretakingupnearlytheentirewidthofthedoorway.Theforest-greeneyes.TheChrisEvansface.
Nofreakin’way.
It’sSquatRackThief.
SquatRackThiefisScott.
Idon’tknowifI’veeverwishedmyselftodisappearintooblivionmorethanIdorightnow.chaptereight
THEUNIVERSEISofficiallyconspiringagainstme.Imusthavedonesomeseriouslymessed-upshitinapastlife.
Scott,betterknownasSquatRackThief,isborderlineunrecognizableinnon-gymwear,withouttheballcapcastingagrimshadowoverhisface.Hiswavyhairisdampandpushedback,asifhe’sfreshfromashower.Underthewarmcandlelight,thedeepjewel-tonehuesofhiseyespoplikeemeralds.He’swearingasportcoatoverapalebluebutton-downshirtandbeigepants,allofwhichfitwithunfairprecision.
Whenhespotsmenexttohisgrandpa,hestumblesbackwardastep,grippingthedoorframe.Clearly,thisisasshockingtohimasitistome.Infact,Ihalf-expecthimtoturnaroundandsprintoutoftherestaurant.
Seeinghimhereisjarring,giventhelasttimewewereineachother’spresence,everysquareinchofoursweatybodieswaspressedtogether
MystomachclenchesasMartincheerfullybellows,“Scotty!Myboy!”fromhisstandingposition.
MymindracesasIcometothefullrealizationthatthemanwhogavemethebestkissofmylifewasnotsingle.Hewastaken.Thesincerityinhiseyeswhenhelookedatmewasamassivelie.Nothingbutafarce.AnAcademyAward–winningperformance.
Andworse,IfeelawfulforDiana,hisfigureskatergirlfriend.I’malltoofamiliarwiththebetrayal,heartbreak,anger,andfeelingofunworthinessthataccompanybeingcheatedon.Lookingback,Ihavereasontosuspectafewweeks’overlapbetweenmyselfandNeil’sex,Cammie,beforeheofficiallywentbacktoher.ThelastthingI’deverwanttodoistobethatpersontoanotherwoman.Notthattheonusofblameshouldrestonthethirdparty.ButIdon’twantanypartinthenarrativeatall.
Scotttearshisdeceitfuleyesfromme,givinghisgrandfatherawarm,genuinesmile.HeroundsthetabletowardustopullMartinintoalovinghug.“SosorryI’mlate.Hadafirecallattheendofmyshift.”
“Whathappened?”Martinasks.
“Somekidsstartedakitchenfire.Theirparentsweren’tevenhome.Iftheneighborhadn’tcalled911,itwouldabeenbad.Theywereallshakenup.Reallyyoungtoo.ThecrewandIstuckaroundtomakesuretheywereokay,”hehumble-brags.
Amildlyaudiblesnortescapesme.MybraincannotreconciletheimageofmorallycorruptSquatRackThiefcomfortingsmall,tremblingchildren.Hehastobeexaggerating.Infact,I’dbetmoneyhewasathome,lazingaroundinlow-cutboxers.Heprobablylosttrackoftimediligentlyorganizinghisvariousproteinpowders,orworshippinghisownreflectioninthemirror.
Martinforgivinglywaveshimoff.“Attaboy.Alwaysknewyou’dmakemeproud.”
Scottnodsinfaux-herosolidarityandthenturns,embracingGrandmaFlowiththebicepsI’veonlyrecentlydiscoveredareusedtosavepeople’slivesfromfires…andtoliftmeagainstlockers.“Flo,youlookstunning,”hetellsher,thecornersofhiseyescrinklingeversoslightly.
NotonlyisitirritatingthatScottisflashingherawholesome,charmingsmile,butitranklesthathe’salreadywellacquaintedwithmygrandma.
IfeellikeI’minthetwilightzone.ThisremindsmeofthetimemyhighschoolfriendKelseystarteddatingourEnglishteacherwhenwewentawaytocollege.Asidefromhowinappropriateandcreepyitwas,himshowingupatourdormroompartiesfeltwildlybizarre.Liketwoveryseparateworldsthatshouldnever,evercollide.
Scottmeetsmyeyesagain.HisAdam’sapplebobswhenheregisterstheopenseat,hisseat,directlybesidemine.
Beforehesits,Martinintroducesus.“Scotty,thisisoneofFlo’sbeautifulgranddaughters,CrystalChen.”
IwanttoslapawayScott’ssmugexpressionasheholdshishandout.“ScottRitchie.Nicetomeetyou,Crystal,”hesays,asifwe’venevermet.Asifwedidn’tgethotandheavyinthegymchangingroomforty-eighthoursago.
Hedoesn’tbothertohidehisamusement.Ifhefeelstheslightestbitguiltyforcheatingonhisfigureskatergirlfriendwithme,thereiszeroevidencetosupportit.Andit’sinfuriating.
Iwanttocallhimoutonhisinfidelity,righthere,rightnow.Exposehismisdeeds.ButIthinkbetterofit.ThelastthingIwanttodoisruinGrandma’sdinner,especiallyafterIpromisedTaraIwouldn’t.So,Itakeabreathandholdmytongue.“Likewise,”Isayprimly.
Ieyehimsuspiciouslyashetakeshisseatbesideme.IfIthoughthesmelledgoodsweatyafteraworkout,hesmellsfrustratinglydelightfulnow—likeasteamyshowerfantasy.He’sdefinitelyjustshowered,becausehesmellslikethatgreenbarsoap.Manly.Slightlyspicy.Fartooalluring.Apparently,thisisthescentofacoldheartedcheaterwhoshowsnovisiblesignsofremorse.
Mybodyisatraitor.Themereproximityofhimsendsahumofenergytoeverylimb,allthewaydowntomytoes.Iresettleinmyseat,turningawayfromhimasPatriciaflasheshimastern,motherlylook,whichIcantellissilentlyscreaming,Howdareyoubelatetoyourowngrandfather’sengagementdinner?
IrefusetolookathimasMartinresumeshisspeech.
“AsIwassaying,I’velovedFlosincefirstgrade.Sincethedayshestolemycapatrecessandrefusedtogiveitback.She’llprobablyarguewithmeonthesemantics,butwewentsteadyformostofelementaryschool,untilshebrokeupwithmeforNedReeves.”Heeyesherwithanostalgicsmile.
GrandmaFlowhackshimonthearmfromherseatedposition.“IbrokeupwithyoubecauseyoukissedPeggyPenton.”
ThetwoofthemchuckleandMartincontinueson.“Anyway,wehadacoupleyearsapart…quiteafew.”Hisvoicecracks.“Welivedmostofourlivesasdearfriends,butI’vealwayscareddeeplyforher.IlovedRogeraswell.”Hetakesthetimetolookateachandeverymemberofmyfamily.“Ipromisetotakeasgoodcareofherashedidforfifty-sevenyears.”
Everyoneawws,clappingpolitelybeforeraisingatoasttoGrandmaFlo.
I’minshockasIraisemywineglass,clinkingitroboticallyagainstScott’s.MartinhasbeeninlovewithGrandmaFlosincefirstgrade.Asadorableandcountry-love-song-worthyasthatis,allIcanthinkaboutisGrandpa.IthinkaboutallthetimesMartinwasoverwhenTaraandIwereattheirhouse.IthinkabouthowmuchGrandmatalkedabouthim.ThefactthatIevenknewhimsowellasafriendofhersmakesmequestioniftherewassomethingmoregoingon.Martinhadawifetoo,butshepassedawayatleasttenyearsago,frommyrecollection.IsitpossibleshewascheatingonGrandpawithMartin?DidsheloveMartin?Theentiretime?
I’vealwaysheldmygrandparents’relationshiponapedestal.GrandpausedtobringherflowerseveryFriday.Thoughhewasoutwardlycrabbyaboutit,healwaysmadespecialmealsforher,evenwhenshewentthroughaphasewhenshewouldonlyeataraw,plant-baseddiet.I’mlefttowonderifitwasallasham.AndnowIhavetodealwithScotttheCheater’spresence.
Itrytogaugetherestofmyfamily’sreactionstoMartin’sspeech,butnooneelseappearsbothered.Momisbusilychattingwiththewaitstaffabouthowtheyavoidcross-contaminationinthekitchen.TaraisindeepconversationwithGrandma.DadisstillengagedinwhatlookslikeabromancewithMartin’sson.
Idon’tknowifit’sthewine,butI’mpricklywithheat,squishedbetweenGrandma’snewloveandtheCheater.Istandabruptly,knockingmynapkinoffmylapasIshuffleintothedimhallwaynexttothebathrooms.Thewalliscoolagainstmyfingertips.Isqueezemyeyesshut,takingadeepbreathinandout,tryingtopushtheantisocialmonsterwithinmebackundertemporarylockandkey.Justgetthroughdinner,Itellmyself.Thenyoucangohome,curlupinbed,andavoidallreality.
Onmyinhale,mynosecatchesawhiffofthatgreen-bar-soapscent.Withoutevenlooking,IknowScottisafoot.
Iprymyeyesopen,confirmingheis,indeed,rightinfrontofme.
“Youalright?”heaskshuskily,studyingmyface.“Youlookalittlepale.Icangrabyousomewaterifyouwant.”He’steeteringbackandforthontheballsofhisfeet,handsinhispockets.
“I’mfine.Justneededspace,”Isay,tooflusteredtocomeupwitharemotelycuttingresponse.
Hegivesmeaheadtilt,whichtellsmehedoesn’tbuyit,butdecidestoletitbe.
“Youweren’tatthegymtoday.Oryesterday.”ThewordsfalloutofmymouthbeforeIcanstopthem.
Whatappearedtobealookofconcernmeltsaway,replacedwithasatisfiedgrin.“Youmissedmeatthegym?”Heissodamnedfullofhimself,heprobablyhashisownselfiesframedonhisbedsidetable.
Iscoff.“No,Ididn’tmissyou.”
“Youdefinitelydid.Justalittle.”Helaughseffortlessly,hisgazeshiftingtomyphoneinmyhand.“Iseeyoufinallyfoundyourphone.Notinmypossession,”headds.
Iclearmythroatandstraightenmyspine,ignoringthelatterhalfofhiscomment.I’dratherdiethanadmitIwaswrong.“You’retheonewhostartedcomingtothegymattheexactsametimeasme.”
“Thegymatmyfirestationisunderrenovationforthenextfewmonths.ExcaliburFitnessisrightinbetweenthestationandmyapartment.”Hepausesforamoment,leaningincloser.“Andbecauseyou’redyingtoknow,I’vebeenworkingdayshiftthepasttwodays.I’vebeengoingtothegymatnightinstead.”
Iscrunchmynose.“Pleasesparemethegruesomedetailsofyourdailyroutine.Icouldcareless.”
“Hey,you’retheonewhostalkedmeintothechangingroom.”
“Iwaslookingformyphone.”
Hegivesmeanincendiarylook.“Andyougotalittlemorethanyoubargainedfor.”
Iforceawaythehotflashbackofbeingcrushedbetweenthelockerandhishardbody.“Andit’snevergoingtohappenagain.Itwasamomentarylapseinjudgment,obviously.Forbothofus.”
“Alright.”Hiseyeslinger,amused,likethesmugbastardheis.
“It’snot,”Isayagain,forgoodmeasure.
“Sure.Whateveryouwant.”
Iglowerathim,unabletodecipherwhetherhe’sbeingsarcasticornot.Iinternallychoosemywords,readyingmyselftofinallyconfronthimabouthisnot-so-singlerelationshipstatus,whenheinterruptsmythoughts.
“So,yourgrandmaandmygrandpa.Howweirdisthat?”
I’mtakenabackbyhistone.Insteadofhisusualsneeringsarcasm,itsoundsnormal.Likeacasualconversationbetweenfriendsoracquaintances.Iblinkacoupletimes.“It’sreallyweird,”Iadmit.
“I’msorryforyourloss.Iknowyourgrandpapassedacoupleyearsago.”Hisvoiceiscalmandmeasured.Fromthewayhiseyessearchmine,asifsomehowunderstandingmypain,Ithinkhe’sbeingsincere.
“Thanks.”Isuckinashakybreath,tryingtostopthetearsfromspillingover.ThereisnowayI’mdoingthisinfrontofmycheatinggymnemesis,evenifheisbeingasemi-decenthumanbeingforonce.Idrawinanotherbreath,composingmyselfbeforereturningtotheprivateroom.
???
APPARENTLY,GRANDMA’SSEATINGarrangementssuccessfullybroketheicebetweenthetwofamilies,becauseeveryoneishappilyminglingnow,exceptme.I’masclosetolyingdownasyoucangetinarestaurantchair.Mybodyishalfwayofftheseat,slouchedandlopsided,legsstretchedinfrontofme.
Admittedly,I’mbeingapoorsport.ButonlybecauseI’vesufferedenoughemotionalshrapneltonight.Truthfully,Martin’ssociablefamilyhasexhaustedme,aslovelyastheymaybe.AllIwanttodoisgohome,curlupundermyduvet,andwatchmind-numbingrealitytelevision.
Itdoesn’thelpthatmystomachischurning,andnotjustbecauseofthiswholesituationwithGrandmaFlo,Martin,andScott,orthefactthatI’veeatentoomuchfettucine.I’vebeenstaringatmyphoneforthelasttenminutes,rereadingatextthatcameinunexpectedly.
NEIL:Hey.
Withjustonetext,I’mfastenedonaninvoluntaryrollercoaster.Onethatdipsandturns,leavingmewindedandbreathless,andnotinagoodway.
Ihaven’theardfromNeilsincethelasttimehetextedmetocomplainaboutCammieandtheir“shittysexlife,”whichIdidn’trespondto.OnlyinthelastmonthdidIfinallygettothepointwhereIdidn’twaitwithbatedbreathforhistext.
“AreyouonTinderagain?ChattingwithZayn?”Adeepvoicesoundsfromovermyshoulder.
Scotthasreturnedtohisseatafterspendingthepasttwentyminutesnearthebar,socializingandfillingtheroomwithhisseriouslyinfectiouslaughter.WhoknewtheCheatercouldlaughwithsuchpure,unrestraineddelight?
Hereadsthetextovermyshoulder.He’ssoclose,Icanfeelthefaintbreezeofhisbreathtinglingthebackofmyneck.
Iclutchmyphone,pressingittomyhammeringchest.“Excuseyou.Noneofyourbusiness.”
“Justwonderingwhyyou’reonyourphoneatyourgrandma’sengagementparty.”
“It’snotlikeI’msittinghereswipingleftandright.I’mansweringbusinessmessages.”Inallreality,I’veansweredpreciselyoneemail.I’mpredominantlyagonizingoverwhethertorespondtoNeil,whilesimultaneouslyresearchingthebenefitsofKimKardashian’sSkimsshapewearoverOGSpanx.
“Lookslikeyou’retextingNeil.”
Iwhipmyheadaround,soastoensurenooneelseinmyfamilyheardhimsayNeil’sname.Theyhaven’t,clearly,orelsethey’dhavealreadyswarmedme,staginganintervention.“No,I’mnot.”
Heleansin,amused,twirlingtheunusedteaspoononthetable.“SodidyouNetflixandchillwithZayn?”
“No.”
“Whynot?”
“Becausewecouldn’tagreeonwhichwasbetter,theUKortheUSOffice,”Ilie.Truthis,IneveractuallyrespondedtoZayn.AndwhydoesScottevencare?
“Whichdoyouthinkisbetter?”
“TheUS.Obviously.”
Hesitsbackslightly,givingmeadisapprovingheadshake.“Gottasay,I’mwithZaynhere.Youjustcan’tbeatdry,Britishhumor.”
“Andthisiswhywedon’tgetalong,”Isnap.
Hegivesmealazysmirk.“Ithinkwegetalongsometimes.”
Anelectriccurrentcoursesthroughmeagain,somuchthatIcanfeeltheheatinmycheeks.Butit’salie.Becausehe’sascumbag.Theonlylogicalthingtodoisturnawayfromhimandavoidhimfortherestofthenight,andtherestofmylife.
JustasI’mabouttomakemyescape,TaraplunksdowninMartin’semptyseattomyleft.“Ithinktheginger-hairedwaiterisinlovewithme,”shemutters.“Don’tlook.”
Isneakapeekatthewaiter,whoisabsolutelycheckingheroutashepoursMom’stea.Thepoorkiddoesn’tlookadayolderthanseventeen.“Didyouflirtwithhim?”
“God,no.He’sateenager.ThoughIdon’tblamehimforshootingforthestars.Imean,Iamavisioninthisromper,”shesayscheekily,gesturingtoherchampagnesequingetup.
Igiveaweaklaughandshechangesthesubject.“DidIevertellyouaboutthetimeIateanentireboxofKrispyKremes?”sheasks,rubbinghertonedstomach.
“No.”
Shebeginstorambleonabouttheeventsthatledhertoeatahalfdozendonuts.Somethingaboutalobsterdinner,Seth,andtakingpublictransit.Tobehonest,I’monlyhalf-listening,becauseScottisnowengrossedinhappyconversationwithGrandmaFlotomyright.
Myangerbubblestothesurface,knowinghe’spullingthewoolovermysweetgrandmother’seyes.Clearlyshethinkstheworldofhim.Everyonedoes.Andlittledotheyknow,it’sjustanextraordinarilychiseledfa?ade.
Scottnods,cheeksrosy,asGrandmaFlowhisperssomethinginhisear.OureyesmeetagainashesayssomethingelseIdon’tcatch.
ThenextwordsthatcomeoutofGrandmaFlo’smoutharemuffled,becauseTara’svoiceislouder.She’satananimatedpartofherstorynow.“AndthentheguyhadtheaudacitytoaskwhatpartyIwasgoingto.AndIwaslike,no,bro,thesedonutsarejustforme…”
Meanwhile,ScottandGrandmaFlothrowtheirheadsbackwithlaughter,asifthey’rethebestoffriends.Theyprobablyhavefriendshipbraceletsatthisrate.I’mwaitingforthemtobustoutasynchronized,ParentTrap–stylehandshake.
Thisistoomuch.Ican’tsitaroundwitnessingfake-Scottinactionforasecondlonger.Istandabruptly,purseinhand,wobblingslightlyfromthealfredosaucecramps.Idon’tevenbothertosayawordtoanyoneasIhustleoutoftheroom.Itakeonequickscanovermyshoulder,shootingScottadisgustedlookbeforefleeingtherestaurantlikeabatoutofhell.
It’snotlikemetoleaveapartyunannounced.Butaftereverything,Idesperatelywanttobealonerightnow,preferablyhorizontal.
Thesidewalkislitteredwithpeoplestrollingleisurely,enjoyingthewarm,breezyspringair.
AsIconfirmmyUber,Taraboundsdownthestonesteps,herbarrelcurlsbouncingwitheachstride.“Areyouokay?”
Isigh,glancingdownthestreetforanysignofthe2016whiteHondaCivicIordered.“It’snothing.I’mjusttired.Myintrovertiscomingout.”
“Areyousurethere’snothingwrong?”
Ipinherwithagraveexpression.“ScottRitchie,Martin’sgrandson?HeisSquatRackThief.”
Shecovershermouthwithherpalm.“What?Actually?”
“Yup.”
“That’stheguyyoumadeoutwithinthegymlockerroom?”
Igiveheracurtnod.
Sheraisesherbrow,comingtotherealization.“Andhehasagirlfriend…”
“Yup.He’sadisgustingpig.Surprise,surprise.”
Hershocktransformsintoascowl.“ThisiswhyIdon’ttrustthemalespeciesanymore.”
“Tellmeaboutit.”Ipause,takinginheranger.“Butdon’tsayanything.Idon’twanttoruinthedinner.That’swhyI’mleaving.”ItakestockofmyUberasitpullsupinthenickoftime.
“Ireallywanttogointheretogivehimapieceofmymind,”Taradeclares,turningonherheelasIopenthecardoor.
“No!”Ishoutafterher.RevealingScott’sinfidelityatanengagementpartyfeelspettyandjuvenile.Italsomakesmelooklikethescornedandjealous“otherwoman,”whichI’mnot.
Butit’stoolate.She’salreadyinside.chapternine
I’MNEVEREATINGdairyagain,Ivow.Unfortunately,lactoseintolerancewasdestinedtobefallme.Dad’sentirefamilysuffersfromit.
Makingquickworkofunfasteningmybrafromundermydress,Icarelesslydiscarditonthelivingroomfloorbeforesprawlingonthecouchinafoodcoma.I’mabouttofireupBravowhenmyphonelightsuponthecoffeetable.Mythroatconstricts.Ihopeitisn’tNeil.
Anditisn’t.It’sanInstagramdirectmessage.FromRitchie_Scotty7.
Ohhellno.
Ipickupmyphoneandopenthemessage
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
HeyCrystal.Yoursistertoldmeyouwereupset.
Istareathismessageforafewmomentsbeforeviolentlyshakingmyphone.Heisn’teventheslightestbitunique.Infact,he’satextbookcheater,desperatelyslidingintoagirl’sDMs.
AndhowamIsupposedtorespondtothatmessage?Idecidetoremedythesituationbyavoidingtheshitoutofit.I’mnotenablinghisbehaviorfurther.
Tossingmyphoneaside,IreachfortheremoteandturnonarerunofmybelovedRealHousewivesofOrangeCounty.Halfwaythrough,amidanall-outscreamingmatchbetweenTamraandVicki,myphonelightsupagain.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Iseeyoureadmymessage.Areyouplanningtorespond?I’llevenacceptanemojiresponse.
Ialmostcatchmyselfsnortingatthemessage,becauseIcanpicturehispunchablefaceandhearhisdeepvoiceasIreadtheDM.IspendtheentirerestoftheepisodeshamefullystalkinghisInstagram.Hedoesn’thavetonsofphotos,butIanalyzeeachoneforensically.
Inhisprofilephoto,he’swearingaviatorsagainstasunny,azuresky.He’sholdingahuge,leggygoldendoodleinhislap.Thedoodleisliterallysmiling.Withteeth.Apparently,IwaswronginmyInstagramrant.Hedoeslikepuppies.Infact,he’sseeminglyobsessedwithhisdog,becausehisInstagrambioreadsDogdadtoAlbusDoodledore.
Againstmybetterjudgment,Icontinuetohate-scroll.ThereisnosignofDiana,thefigureskatergirlfriendMartinandhismomweretalkingabout.Instead,there’saplethoraofnaturepictures,somesolophotosofAlbusDoodledoreonhikingtrails,andacoupleshotsoffiretrucksandotherguysinfirefightergear.
Therearen’tevenanyshirtlessgym-broselfies.Infact,there’sonlyoneshirtlessphoto,ofhimwithanotherfriendontheedgeofadockonalake.Izoominwithsurgicalprecision,soastoensureIdonotaccidentallyLikethephoto.Hisabsareunmistakable.Andthisphotoisfrom2016.Damn.He’slivedyearsofhislifethisbeautiful.It’salmostunjust.
Thereisnophotographicproofofhiswomanizingways,evenaftercheckinghistaggedphotos.Noclubpictureswithbig-breastedmodels,orbikini-cladwomenonyachts.Sure,hisfriendsareallfitandattractive.ButI’mnotabouttojudgesomeoneforhavingattractivefriends,soIabandonthetask,tossingmyphoneaside.
Onlyminuteslater,itlightsupyetagain.Butthistime,it’satextfromTara.
TARA:Hey,hopeyou’refeelingbetter.JustwantedtoletyouknowI’mstayinglatetohelpMomclearalltheflowersfromtherestaurant,etc.PS.ThewaiterisstickingaroundandIhaveitongoodauthorityfromthehostessthathe’sworkingupthecouragetoaskmeout.Goingtohavetolethimdowneasy.Wishmeluck.
CRYSTAL:Goodluck!AndIfeelbadI’mnottheretohelp.TellGrandmaI’msorryforleaving.
TARA:Noworries!There’snotmuchtodo.AndIthinkyoushouldtalktoScott.FYI.Hewantstoapologize.
Irollmyeyes.Apologizeforbeingcaught?Begmenottotellanyone?No,thanks.
CRYSTAL:Tara,Idon’twantanapologyfromhim.Idon’tcare.
Itossmyphonebackonthetable.Themerefactthathewantstoberighteousand“apologize”pissesmeoffevenmore.
Iscrollthroughmytexts,revisitingmyrandomtextfromNeil.Istillhaven’tresponded.
Crystal,donotgivein,Itellmyselfoverandover,eyesfixedontheexposedceiling.
Todistractmyselffromthetemptationofrespondingtoeitherman,despitemygrowingcuriosity,IthrowonsomegymclothesandheadtoExcaliburFitness—theoneandonlyplaceIcanfindanypeace.Mycrampshavesubsidedinmyrage,andI’mdesperatetothrowaroundsomeweights.
???
EXCALIBURFITNESSISvacantofallhumanlife,exceptforme.Thenagain,it’smidnight.Mostpeopleintheirrightmindsaren’tpumpingironinthemiddleofthenight.
Thesoundsystemisn’tevenon,extendingthetranquility.ItremindsmeofwhenIusedtoworkatPotteryBarninthemallasateenager,comingintoopenthestoreintheearlyhoursofthemorningandclosinglateatnight.Thestillnessofaplacethatisnormallybustlingwithpeopleisoff-puttingtosome,butit’stheultimateserenityfor
Pre-workout,IsnapaphotoofmyrunningshoesanddumbbellsformyInstagramstory,captioningit,“Late-nightsession.Blowingoffsomesteam!”
Catchingmybreath,Imassagetheslightblisterformingonmycallousedpalmsaftertwosets.Iclosemyeyes,concentratingontheairpassinginandoutofmylungs,whenthegymdoorwhooshesopen.
Scottpushesthroughtheturnstiles.
He’sstillinhisperfectlytailoredsportcoatfromdinner,whileI’mwearingahideousneonworkouttopthathighlightsallmyworstangles.Idesperatelyneedtodolaundry.
Bythepinkflushofhischeeksandtherateatwhichhischestrisesandfalls,I’dwageraguesshejustranfromtherestaurant.“Canwetalkforaminute?”
Isetthebarbelldownwithagrunt.“Ithinkthebetterquestionis,howdidyouknowIwasatthegym?”
Mymenacing,probablydownrightunnervingexpressionstopshiminhistracks.Hetakesasmallstepbackward,maintainingacouplefeetbetweenus.“YourInstagramstory.”
“AreyoustalkingmeonInstagramnow?”Dadwouldsurelyfreakoutifhefoundouthisfearshavecometrue,thatsomeoneactuallydidstalkme.
“Well,itsoundscreepywhenyousayitlikethat.”
“Whydidyoufollowmehere?”
Heletsoutalongsigh,takingasteptowardme.“I’mreallysorry—”
“Scott,saveit.Ihavenodesiretobesomesecretsidepiecewhenyou’renotgettingitfromyourgirlfriend.”
“Crystal.”Hisfaceispained.“Thisisamassivemisunderstanding.”
“How?Yourtonguejustaccidentallyfellintomymouthwhenyouhaveagirlfriend?”I’monfirenow,bloodboiling,itchingtoroasthimwithinaninchofhislife.
Hesnapshisheadback,bringinghishandstohistemples.“Idon’thaveagirlfriend.IneverwouldhavekissedyouifIdid.”
“Thenwhydoyourgrandpaandyourmomthinkyoudo?Dianathefigureskater?Youdon’tneedtolie.I’mnotgoingtooutyou.Ihavebetterthingstodowithmytime.”
Hetakesanotherstepforward,closingthegapbetweenus.“Ihadagirlfriend.Webrokeuptwoweeksago.NotlongbeforeImetyou,actually.Ihadn’ttoldmyfamilybeforetonight.”
It’sagoodthingI’mnotholdingthebarbell,becauseIabsolutelywouldhavedroppeditonmytoes.Thisisjusttooconvenient.Ishakemyheadindenial.“Scott,youdon’thavetomakeupsomeelaboratelie.Goodnight.”Istubbornlyturntobeginmynextsetoften.
“I’mnotlying.”Scottroundstherack,standingtotheside,waitingsilently.“Crystal,”hesaysfirmlyasIhitmylastrep.
“What?Justgoaway,”Iplead,settingthebarbellbackontherackwithalazythud,stillunabletofathomwhyhedidn’tvanishintothinairthemomentIlethimoffthehook.
“Isthatreallywhatyouwant?”
Imeethiseyesforalongmoment,tryingtodeterminewhetherhe’sbeinggenuineornot.Iwanttobelievehim.Iwanttotreasureourkiss.Iwanttotellhim,No.Stay,butIstopmyself.
Whetherhe’sbeingtruthfulornot,itdoesn’tchangeanything.Heliterallyjustbrokeupwithhisgirlfriend.IttakesmetwiceaslongtomourntheendofajuicyseasonofGameofThrones,letaloneahumanbeingIwasromanticallyinvolvedwith.Anditdoesn’thelpthatDianaisaliteralDisneyprincessonice.Judgingfromaquicksocialmediastalk,shefullyembodiesthecharacterofBellefromBeautyandtheBeast.Asidefromhertinyfigureskaterframe,shehasBelle’ssoulfuldolleyes,porcelainskin,andperfectlysymmetricalheart-shapedface.Whatguywouldn’trushbacktoagirlwholookslikethatifgiventhechance?
Idon’twanttobesomefill-in,givinghimamomentaryreprievefromhowheartbrokenheactuallyisbutisn’tawareofyet.I’veonlyjustemergedfromReboundLandwithNeil—andIwon’tbereturning
“Yes,justgo,”Isay,squintinginasadattempttoblurhimoutofexistence.
Hesighs,raisinghishandsinsurrender.“Okay.Fine.ButIwasn’tlying.Idon’thaveagirlfriend.Iwouldn’tdosomethinglikethat.”
Myexpressionremainsunchanged.Afterafewbeatsofthicksilence,hebowshisheadindefeatandwalksoutofthegym.
10:47A.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“SIZEPOSITIVECAMPAIGN—KNOWINGYOURWORTH”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Okay,bucklein.Thispostisabouttogetserious.
Wouldyouevertellafriend:“You’redisgusting,”“You’reugly,”“You’renotsmartenough,”“You’renotgoodenoughforhim”?MyguessisNO.Unlessyou’reareallyshitfriend,orasociopath.Ifyou’dneversaythesethingstoafriend,thenwhywouldyousaythemtoyourself?
Yourself-worthisn’tjustaboutyourweight,oryourfitnesslevel.It’salsoaboutthehealthofyourmind,soul,andheart.Ifthere’sonethingI’velearnedovermyfitnessjourney,it’sthatnegativeattractsnegative.Getthattoxicityoutofyourlife.Andyes,thatincludespeople.Ifyou’retoxictoyourself,youwillattracttoxicindividualsintoyourlife.Don’tallowpeopletoputyouintopositionsthatmakeyoufeellessthan.Takecontrolofyourownlifeanddon’tbeafraidtoputpeopleintheirplacewhennecessary.
So,domeafavorandwritedownalistofallthethingsyoulikeaboutyourself.Yourbombhair.Youramazinglegs.Yoursenseofhumor.Anything.Stareatthatlistandmemorizetheshitoutofitlikeit’syourelementaryschoolspeech.Rereaditeveryday.
Ifyouhaveoneofthosedayswhereyoulikewhatyouseeinthemirror,oryou’vehadakick-assworkout,oryou’rehappywiththewayyou’vehandledsomething,writeitdownandkeepitforwheneveryouhaveanegativethought.Wetendtorememberthebadoverthegood.
Love,
Crystal
CommentbyTrain.wreckk.girl:Ineededtohearthistoday.Thankyou.
CommentbyMelanie_inthecity:Yes!!Don’tgivepeoplethepowertodimyoursparkle.
???
“WHATHAPPENEDWHENyouwentbackintoMammaMaria’s?”IaskTara,finallyemergingfrommyroomafteruncharacteristicallysleepingin
She’slyingupsidedownonthecouch,readingherlatestpaperback,ahistoricalromance,fromthelookofthecover.Shemakesmewaitacouplebeatsbeforelookingupfromherbook,eyeswideningatthesightofmyhair.IcloselyresembleamangledkillerdollinneedofagoodexorcismandIdon’twanttotalkaboutit.
“Mom,Dad,andGrandmawereworried,wonderingwhathappened.ItoldthemyouwereupsetbecauseScottwasadick,”sheexplains.
“Okay…”IgestureforhertocontinueasIperchontheedgeofthecouch.
“IthinkScottoverheard,becauseheawkwardlycameuptomeafter.IwastellinghimaboutmyNewYorkPublicLibrarydisasterandhiseyesglazedoveroneminutein—andyouknowthat’sadamngoodstory,”sheaddsdefensively.“Ithoughthewasjustanawko-taco,eyesdartingaround,lookingallsad.Turnsout,hewasconcernedaboutyou.Hewantedtoknowwhyyouleft.Ifiguredyoushouldbetheonetoexplainittohim,soIjustsaidAskheryourselfandleftitatthat.ThenNathan,thewaiter,discreetlylefthisnumberonanapkinonmyplate.Itookit.IfigureifI’mstillsingleintenyears,I’lltexthim.”
“Youwon’tbesingleintenyears,”Ireassureher,collapsingbackintothecouch,momentarilyglancingattherandomInstagramnotificationspoppinguponmymostrecentpostpromotingmySizePositivecampaign.“Scottshowedupatthegym,bytheway.”
Hereyeswiden.“Seriously?”
“Heclaimedhedidn’thaveagirlfriend,”Isaythroughasnort.“Saidthey’dbrokenup.ConvenientlybeforeImethimwhenhestolemysquatrack.”
“Whywouldhesaythatifitwasn’ttrue?”Shestaresatme,blinking.
“Becausethat’sjustwhattheseguysdo.Theyspinlieafterlie.Asidefromgettingtheirdickswet,alltheycareaboutisimage.”
“Whatifhe’stellingthetruth?Whatifhe’sactuallysuperintoyou?”
“Itwouldn’tmatter.He’sbeenatotaldouchebagtomeatthegym.Evenwhenhekissedme,itwasn’tsomeromantickiss.ItwasanIwanttoscrewyouagainstalockertypekiss.”Thelatterhalfofmystatementisn’ttrue.ButIrefusetorememberhowtenderlyhelookedatme.Howgentlehewaswhenhetouchedme.
Shegivesmealookofderisionasshesetsherbookfacedownonthecoffeetable.“Idon’tbuyit.Hewentlookingforyouatthegym.That’sprettyextreme.Heisn’tNeil,youknow.”
“Maybehe’sjusttryingtoclearhisconscience,”Icontinue,convenientlyignoringher.“Hefeelsguiltyforbeingacheater.He’sprobablytryingtocoverhisownass.Idoubthewantshisfamilytoknowhe’sasecretman-whore.Andnowthatourfamiliesarerelated,he’sprobablydoingdamagecontrol.”
“Hewouldn’tdothatifhewasjusttryingtoclearhisconscience.I’dassumecheatersdon’thaveaconscience.”
Ishakemyhead,doubtful.“Peoplewillgotogreatlengthstosavefacesotheydon’thavetofeelawkward.Andevenifheisn’tlying,I’mnotgettinginvolvedinpost-breakupdrama,especiallywithadudewho’snowjoiningthefamily.”
Inadditiontomydeclarationofnomorehookups,Imakeanewvowtomyself.Iwillneverbeanyone’srebound.Everagain.chapterten
HE’SLOOKINGATyoulikealostpuppy,”Melwhispersasweheadtotherower.
Ispentthefirsthalfofourgymsessionfillingherinontheeventsoflastnight.LikeTara,Melisalsoatraitor,itseems.She’saboardtheScottRitchietrainwithanonrefundableticket.Infact,herenthusiasmforhimheightenedtennotcheswhenhepolitelyreturnedherwaterbottleaftersheforgotitattheassistedpull-upmachine.Itriedtotellherhedoesn’tdeserveacookieformerelyexisting,butshedismissedme.
Atnopointinourentireworkouthashestolenanyofmymachines.Infact,whenitappearedwewereheadedforthesamecablemachine,hestoppedandveeredleft.Hehasn’tevengivenmehisusualdisarmingsmirkfromacrossthegym.
“Didyousayhewasafirefighter?”sheasksinbetweenrows.
“Apparently,”Imutter,suppressinginvadingthoughtsofhimheroicallydodgingaperilous,fieryblazetoherddefenselessgoldendoodlepuppiestosafety,whileshirtless,ofcourse.
Shenot-so-subtlyogleshimfromacrossthegym.“Don’tyouthinkhelookslikethatguyfromthatNicholasSparksmovie…theonewhomarriedMileyCyrus?”
“They’redivorcednow,”Isay,suddenlyfeelingdefensiveofLiamHemsworthforabsolutelynologicalreasonatall.“Andyoucanputyourpregnancytestaway.I’mnotdatingScott.Butifyouthinkhe’ssoattractive,maybeyoushoulddatehim—thoughI’dadviseagainstit.”
Shesnorts.“Ihaveaboyfriend.Peter,remember?HelookslikeHenryGolding.That’senoughhandsomeforme.”
Irefrainfromdroolingatthethought.“HenryGolding,hashtagtoobeautifulforthisworld.”
Wegiggle,andIpretendnottoadmireScott’sendurancefromafarashedoeswhatlookstobeapainfulnumberofcleansandpresses.
WhenMel’sgazefollowsmine,Iavertmystareandclaptowardtherower.“You’redoingamazing.Acouplehundredmoremetersandyou’llbefree.”
“Ithinkyoushouldjustseewhathe’sabout.Reboundornot.Usehisbodyforsex,even,”shesuggests,completelydisregardingwhatI’vejustsaid.
MyneckprickleswithheatatthemerementionofhavingsexwithScott.Ifourlockermake-outwasanyindicationofhowincredibleitwouldbe,Iwouldprobablyberuinedforlife.“I’mnotabouttheotherwomanlife,thanks.”
AsMelfinishesherlastfewmeters,IaccidentallymeetScott’seyesashetakesabreak.Mycheeksflushinstantlyathiskindsmile.Thistime,itisn’tthatcockygrin.Itappearsgenuine.ItscreamsI’msorry.
WhatamessI’vemade.Whyhasn’tmodernsciencecrackedtimetravelyet?I’mdesperatetolaunchmyselfbackintimesoIcanavoidourhot-and-heavymake-out.Ihatetheawkwardness.Infact,I’dtakethepettyrivalryanydayoverthis.
Makingaconcertedefforttoignorehisentirebeing,IkeepmyeyeslockedforwardasMelandIheadfortheexit.BeforeIgothroughtheturnstile,footstepsjogupbehindus.
It’sScott,lookingnoworseforwearafteranintenseCrossFitcircuit.“Crystal?Canwetalkbeforeyougo?”
Melgivesmeaslylookandarushedwave.“Later,girl,”shecallsoverhershoulder,desertingmeinthesun-filledentrancewaywithScott.Imakeamentalnotetoplotanextra-difficultworkoutforhernexttimeasrevengeforhercallousabandonmentinmytimeofneed.
Iturntohim,foldingmyarmsacrossmychest,gymbagdanglingfrommyshoulder.
Heglancesatthefloorbeforebringinghisgorgeouseyesbacktomine.Thesunlightilluminatesthegoldflecksamongthedensegreen.“What’sitgoingtotakeforyoutoacceptmyapology?”
“Iacceptyourapology.Happy?”Isayrobotically,purelytogethimoffmyback.Ihavemoreimportantshittodotodaythanstandhereandarguewithhim.
Heblinksdownatme.“Really?Becauseyou’relookingatmelikeyouwanttocastratemewithabutterknife.”
“Maybeyoudeserveharshpunishment.”Iletthosewordslingerafewmomentsbeforeheswallows,asiffearingforhislife.“AndjustbecauseImightacceptyourapologydoesn’tmeanyourgirlfriendshould,”Iadd.
Hesighs,avertinghisgazetotheceiling,asifprayingtothegodsaboveforassistance.“Idon’tknowhowtoprovetoyouIdon’thaveagirlfriend.”
Ishrug,givinghimnothingasanothergympatronimpatientlywalksaroundus,shootingusacross-eyedglareasifwe’vesingle-handedlyinconveniencedhisday.Weinchtotheleftsowe’renolongerblockingtheentireentrance.
Scottrunshishandacrossthebackofhisneck.“Look,whydon’tyoujustaskFlo?Itoldmygrandpaaboutmybreakuplastnight.Iwouldn’tlietohim.”
Igivehimaboredstarebeforeturningfortheexit.“MaybeIwill.”
???
GRANDMAFLOHASalwaysbeenahoarder.Sheisn’tasextremeassomeofthosepeopleonthatTLCshowwithrottinggarbageanddeadcatcarcassesamongstacksofnewspapersfrom1978,butit’sstillworthanintervention.
ThereareatleastfiftyeditionsofOprahmagazineunderhersidetable,alongwithendlessbasketsoverflowingwithyarnsofallcolorsanditchy-lookingtextures.ShealsohasanexpansivecollectionofthosecreepyPreciousMomentsfigurinesadorningthemantelabovethefireplace.Istaredownaparticularlydemonic-lookingonemasqueradingasadelicateballerinaasIwaitforhertobringmetea.ItsitsnexttoadustyframedphotoofMomandUncleBillintheiryouth,botchedhaircutsandall.
There’sasmallerpictureframetotheleftthathousesmyandTara’swallet-sizeschoolportraits,sidebyside.TaraistwelveandisthespittingimageofDad,onlywithadelightfultoothygrinandthick,sidesweptbangs.MeanwhileI’matpeakawkwardstageatten,mid-blink,sportingthrice-layeredassorted-colortanktopsfromHollisterWhenaskedwhyinGod’snameshe’ddisplaythisphotoofme,ofallphotos,herresponseisalwayssomethingtotheeffectof“Itcapturesyouressence,”andI’mlefttoquestionmyentirelife.
“Becareful,it’spipinghot.”Shesetsthemugoverthecoasteronthecoffeetable,litteredwithJoannFabricscoupons.
“Thanks,Grandma.”ThefloralcouchsqueaksasIleanforwardtotakethesteamingmug.“Sohowaretheweddingpreparationscomingalong?”
ShesettlesintoherLa-Z-Boy,crochetslipperspointedtotheceiling.“Mostofthebigdetailsarealreadyset.Taraisorganizedasallget-out.Therearejustsomesmallthings,likethecenterpieces,thatneedsorting.”
Igiveheranuncomfortablenodafterblowingonthescorchingtea.AsidefromclearinguptheScottconversation,I’mdesperatetoaskwhethersheandMartinweretogetherbeforeGrandpadied.Butthereisnotactfulwaytogoaboutit.
“I’msurprisedyoudecidedtogoforsuchabigwedding,”Isayinstead.
Sheshrugs,tuggingatherblouse.“GrandpaandIneverreallyhadawedding.Hedidn’tcareabouttheglitzandtheglam.Youknowhowhewas.Wasn’tmuchforbeingthecenterofattention.”She’sright.Grandpadidn’tevenlikebeingphotographed,letalonehavinganentiredayallabouthim.“Soanyway,whenitcametoawedding,hedecideditwouldbebetterifwejustputthemoneytowardahouse.Sothat’swhatwedid.”
“Wereyouokaywiththat?”
“Ikindofhadtobe.Itwashismoney,”shesaysmatter-of-factly.Shelikestoremindmeoftheold-schoolways.Asifit’sthewaythingsshouldbe.
Grandmawasastay-at-homemom,whileGrandpaworkedinthefinancialdistrict,controllingthefundsexclusively.Grandmadidn’tevenownapurseuntilhepassedaway.
“SodoesMartinwantagrandweddingtoo?”
“Hedidn’thavemuchofafirstweddingeither.HeandSheilaeloped.InVegas,ifyoucanimagine.Isupposewebothwantedit.AndithelpsTaraoutsoshedoesn’thavetoloseherdeposits.”Hervoicetrailsassheabsentmindedlyfidgetswiththehemofherblouse.“Doyouthinkit’scrazy?Megettingmarriedatseventy-seven?”
Whensheputsitthatway,it’shardtosayno.DespitemysuspicionsabouttheoverlapbetweenMartinandGrandpa,itsuddenlyseemswrongtocallheroutonit.Realistically,Iwanthertobehappyandguilt-free,regardlessofthepast.
Ishakemyhead,forcingasmile.“No.Ithinkit’sgreat.Areyouguysgoingtomoveintogether?”
“Eventually.Butwe’rehavingaheckofatimedecidingonwhere.Idon’twanttomoveoutofthishouse,andthestubbornmandoesn’twanttomovefromhis.Hesuggesteddownsizing,but…”Shecastsasadgazearoundherclutteredlivingroom.“Ijustdon’tknowaboutthat.”
Icringeattheinevitabletaskofsortingthroughallofthisjunk.Godknowswhatcreatureswe’llunearth.“I’msureyou’llfigureitoutbeforethewedding.There’snorush.”
“So,”shesays,takingasipofherowntea,eyesglinting.“WhatdidyouthinkofScotty?”
Myshouldersfallwithrelief.I’mthankfulIdidn’thavetobringitup.“Iactuallywantedtotalktoyouabouthim.Butfirst,Iwantedtoapologizeforleavingyourdinnersoearly.Iwasn’tfeelingwell.”
Shenods,asifshealreadyknew.“Nosweat,dear.”
There’sapregnantpausebeforeIcomeoutwithit.“DoesScotthaveagirlfriend?”
Thecornersofherlipscurlupward,amused.“Why?Doyoufancyhim?”BeforeIcanevenrespondwithanexaggeratedNo,shecontinueson.“Ithoughthe’dbeperfectforTara.Butshemightbebetteroffwithsomeonewhowilldoteonherandshowerherwithhisundividedattention.Scottistoobusyforthat.Butyou—oh,Icouldseehimwithyou.Imagineyourchildren!”Shehootsandclaspsherhandstogetheratthemerethoughtofusprocreating.
MyeyeswidenandIleanback,awayfromher.“Anyway.”Iclearmythroat,tryingtosteerherbacktomyoriginalquestion.“IthoughtMartinsaidhehadagirlfriend?”
“That’swhateveryonethought.ButScottytoldhimafterdinnerthey’drecentlypartedways.Somethingaboutthedistancebeingtoohardonthem.Martysaidheseemeddownaboutit.Poorthing.”
I’mrenderedsilentforamoment,clutchingmymug.I’mrelievedtofindoutScottwasn’tlyingaboutbeingnewlysingle.He’snotacheaterafterall.Butitstilldoesn’tchangethefactthathe’sjustgottenoutofarelationshipandhe’s“down”aboutit.
“But,”Grandmacontinues,“ifyouaskme,hehasnothingtoworryabout.Hewon’tstaysingleforlong.He’squitethecatch.All-American.Handsome.NicetoMartin.Familyoriented.Heroic.Worksalotthough…butthatmeanshe’dbeagoodprovider.WhatifIsetsomethingup?Areyoufreetomorrownight?”
“Thanks,Grandma.ButIdon’tknowifhe’smytype.”Iconvenientlyleaveoutthatwe’regymnemesesandweloatheeachother.
“What’sthat,dear?You’remumbling.”Sheholdsherhandtohereartheatrically.
“Idon’tthinkhe’smytype,”Irepeat.
Shegivesmeaknowingonce-over,asifI’vejustsaidsomethingcompletelyludicrous.“Oh,honey.He’severyone’stype.Andyou’regettingoninage,youknow.”
GrandmaFloisaproductofthefifties,notthatit’sanexcusetobeignorant.Butshestillfirmlybelieveswomenshouldbemarriedintheirtwenties.Beinginyourlatetwentiesandunmarriedisborderingonspinsterstatus,asperherhumbleopinion.
“Unlessyou’restillinterestedinbeingoneofthosecareertypes.Icanreallypicturethatforyou,”shesays,stillunabletograsptheconceptthatwomencanbalancebothfamilyandcareer.
Ipretendtocheckmyphone,ignoringthefactthatmyowngrandmotherenvisionsmedyingalone.“Ihavetogetbackforavirtualmeetingwithmyclient,”Ilie.“ButI’llseeyoutomorrowforyourbloodworkappointment?”I’mtheonewhotakesFlotoallhervariousappointments,givenIhavethemostflexiblescheduleinthefamily.
Shenods,watchingmeasIstand.“I’llbereadywithbellson.”
AsIsitinherdrivewaybehindthesteeringwheel,IfindmyselfbackonScott’sInstagrampage.MaybeIowehimanapology.It’stheleastIcandoforgivinghimahardtimeandwrongfullyaccusinghimofphilandering.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Youwereright.Sorryfornotbelievingyou.
BythetimeIpullintotheparkinggarageofmyapartmentbuilding,Scotthasresponded.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
YoutalkedtoFlo?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Idid.Sheconfirmedyoursingleness.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Doesthatmeanyounolongerwishdeathuponme?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Tobedetermined.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Sowhenareyoutakingmeonahotdate?
IscoffwhenIreadhistext.Whatisitwithguysandtheirinabilitytostaysingle?
You’veonlybeensingleforalittleovertwoweeks.You’reprobablystillcryingintoyourpillowoverher,Iwanttotypeinallcaps,boldandunderlined.Butinsteadofadramaticresponse,Igivemyselfaminutetocalmdown.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Never.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
CanIaskwhynot?
I’mtemptedtojusttellitlikeitis:it’stoosoonafterhisbreakup.ButIdon’t.HeisSquatRackThief,afterall.Itakepleasureinmakinghimsquirm.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Because.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
“Because”isn’tanacceptableresponse.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
I’mallowedtoturnyoudownwithoutanexcuse.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
That’strue.ButI’mprettysureyoukindoflikeme.Youevenpretendedyourphonewasmissingsoyoucouldattackmeinthechangingroom.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
You’resofullofyourself.That’sonereasonIcan’tgooutwithyou.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Onereason?Therearemore?
Ismile,knowingI’veintriguedhim.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Yes.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Caretoshare?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Standby,thismighttakeawhiletotype.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Lol…Eagerlyawaitingyournovel.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Asidefromreason1—thefactthatyouregoisthesizeofBoston…
2)Wegotothesamegymandourfamiliesarejoining.Whatifthingsdidn’tworkout?We’dhavetoseeeachother.Itwouldbeweirdandawkwardforeveryoneinvolved.
3)Icanonlybewooedwithclassicjokepickuplines.You’vefailedtogivemeoneIcan’trefuse.
4)I’mnotlookingtobesomeone’srebound.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
1)I’mreallynotconceited.It’sallanact.Partofmyfa?ade.Butdon’ttellanyone.
2)It’sonlyadate.Notamarriageproposal.Ifthedatedoesn’tgowell,wecanjustbefriendslikematureadults.
3)Justwaitforit.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Doyoulikeraisins?Howdoyoufeelaboutdates?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Oh,comeon.That’sagreatone.
Ican’thelpbutnoticehestillhasn’taddressedreasonnumberfour.Theglaringreason.Therealonethat’sauthenticallykeepingmefromtakinghimuponhisoffer.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
It’snottheworstI’veeverheardinthehistoryofawfulpickuplines.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Alright.Challengeaccepted.chaptereleven
9:34A.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“SIZEPOSITIVECAMPAIGN—MYTHSABOUTBEINGCURVY”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Nothinggrindsmygearsmorethanthestigmaagainstpeoplewhoarecurvy.HereareafewmythsI’dliketoaddress.
1)Curvypeoplemustbeunhealthy—Evenhealthprofessionalsgetthisonewrong.Ican’ttellyouhowmanytimesdoctorshaveblamedaninjuryonmyweight,eventhoughmytwistedanklehadliterallynothingtodowithit.DidyouknowyoucanhaveaBMIinthe“healthy”weightrangeandstillbeunhealthyaf?Mysister(sorry,Tara)isasizesixandherpersonaldietconsistssolelyofpotatochips.
2)Curvypeoplearelazyandunmotivated—Whethersomeoneis“lazy”and“unmotivated”hasnothingtodowithsize.Anyone,regardlessofsize,canstrugglewithbingeeatingorcouldbegoingthroughsomethingthatcausesthemtolosethemotivationtoliveahealthylifestyle.
3)Curvypeoplearesad,lonely,andhavelowself-esteem—Sorry,butsizedoesn’tdefinewhoweare.Idon’tlivemylifethinkingaboutmyweightallthetime.Peopleofallsizeshavevaryingdegreesofconfidence.LookatmygirlLizzo.
4)Curvypeopleonlyexercisetoloseweight—Iholdthisonenearanddeartomyheart.Justbecauseyouseemeinthegymdoesn’tmeanI’mtheretoburnacaloriedeficitandloseweight(andno,I’mnotsayingthatshouldn’tbesomeone’sgoal).ButIpersonallyhitthegymtoliftheavythings.Period.
Commentbytrainerrachel_1990:PREACHGIRLCommentbyrileyhenderson:Agreed.Igetweirdlooksatthegymandpeoplealwaysoffertohelpme,assumingIcan’tdothingsbecauseI’mfat.
CommentbyCafi80:Yourplatformistotallygreat!Don’tgetmewrong!ButIfeellikeit’stargetingusskinnygirls.Iworksohardtoachievemyabsandmybody…Iworkharderthanpeoplewhoareoverweight,becauseI’mseeingresultsandobviouslyothersaren’t.Ifeellikeyourplatformdiscountsallmydiscipline.
CommentbyArthur.Dilstraa:lmaokkkeepkiddingurself
???
ISTUDYTHEgenericfruitbowlpaintingaboveGrandmaFlo’shead.It’sbland,understated,anduncontroversial,theidealdécorforamedicalclinicwhereemotionstendtorunhigh.
Caseinpoint:wejustwitnessedascaryladywithableachedblondpixiecutverballyassaultthereceptionistfornothavingherupdatedhomeaddressinthesystem.
“Grandma,areyousureyoudon’tneedmetodriveyouhomeafterthis?”
GrandmaFlowavesmeoff,castingadisapprovingstareatPixieWoman,whoisnowmumblingvaguethreatsunderherbreathasshestompstoaseatacrossfromus.“Oh,honey,I’mfine.Martinispickingmeup,”shesaysflippantly,asifthishadbeentheplanallalong.
PixieWomanglaresatus,lipspursed.“Thisplaceisazoo.Runbyincompetentfloozies.”She’shopingGrandmaandIwilljoinheronthesoapboxandairourgrievancestoo.
Iflashherasympatheticsmileofsolidarityinanefforttoensureoursafety.Herscowlandtwitchyeyetellmeshe’saloosecannon,readytocausebodilyharmtoanyonewhodaresstepinherway.IturnbacktoGrandma.“Ireallydon’tmindtakingyouhome.ItwouldsaveMartinthetrip.”
Sheshakesherheadagain,catchingtheSeptember2019editionofOprahmagazinebeforeitslipsoffherlap.“Hewantstobringmetothecraftstoreafterwardtopickupthatwool—”
Thelittlebellhangingabovetheentrancebehinduschimes,alertingthereceptionistthatsomeonehasentered.ThescowlallbutdisappearsfromPixieWoman’sface.WhenIdarelookatwhohasturnedherintoaswooningteenagegirlataOneDirectionconcert,Imeetafamiliarpairofgreeneyes.
“Oh.Hey,Crystal.”Scottwaves.He’swearingacasualnavy-blueT-shirtthatreadsBostonFireDepartmentinboldletters.HisjeanshughimsoperfectlythatI’mconvincedmeremortaleyesaren’tworthyofthisview.
GrandmaFlobeams.IfIdidn’talreadyknowshewasseventy-sevenyearsold,Iwouldn’tbelieveitafterwitnessingherspringoutofherseatlikeajack-in-the-boxtopullhimintothethroesofherembrace.Ican’thelpbutsmileathowmassiveheiscomparedtohertinyfive-foot-twoframe.“Scotty,thankyousomuchforcoming.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iask,castinganaccusatoryglareatamischievous-lookingFlo.
Scott’sgazeflickerstoGrandmaFloasheunknowinglysitsnexttoPixieWoman,whoisshamelesslygawkingathimlikehe’saMagnumicecreambar.“Youcalledyesterdayandsaidyou’dneedsomeonetotakeyouhomefromtheclinic.”
“Oh,didI?”GrandmaFloplacesherpalmonhercheek.
Inearlycrackmyneckwhippingmyheadinherdirection.“IthoughtMartinwaspickingyouup?”
Sheshrugs,unabletostopgrinning.Heractingskillsareappalling.“Youknowme,Igetalittlemixedupinmyoldage,”shesays,asifsheisn’tofsoundmindanddoesn’tknowtheanswerstoeightypercentofthecluesonJeopardy!
“FlorenceMcCarthy,”Brandy,thenurse,callsfromthedoorwayleadingtotheexaminationrooms.
Grandmaclaspsherhandsandstands,gleefullyexitingtheawkwardsituationthatisentirelyofherownmaking.
Irollmyeyes,makingaconcertedeffortnottogiveherapieceofmymindtensecondsbeforeshe’sabouttoundergoacholesterolandhearttest.“Wantmetocomeinwithyou?”
Shenods,glancingataveryconfusedScott.“Bothofyoushouldcome.Itcouldtakeawhile.”
Thenurseleadsusdownthestarkwhitehallwayintoanequallysterileexaminationroom.
IcantellbythefurrowofScott’sbrowthathehadn’ttheslightestideaaboutthislittle“run-in”GrandmaFloorchestrated.Ifeelguiltyshe’swastedhistime.Iwonderifhe’shadtorearrangehisentirescheduletodriveinfromdowntown.Italsofeelsawkward,givenIturnedhimdownviatextonlyyesterday.
BrandygetsGrandmasetupinthechairandbeginstorolluphersleeve.“RememberwhatItoldyoulasttime?We’regoingtodosomeroutinebloodworktocheckthosecholesterollevels.”
ScottandIstandnearthewallsidebysideasGrandmaandBrandychataboutthismorning’sepisodeofLivewithKellyandRyan.Whenhisarmnearlygrazesmine,Iinternallyscream,unabletostillmyfidgeting.Ikeepbouncingbackandforthbetweenadjustingmyshirtandmyhair,andpickingmynailstostubs,allofwhichdolittletodullmyanxiety.Musthestandsoclosetome?Ispersonalspaceaforeignconcepttohim?
Mybodyisinturmoil,unabletodecidewhatitwantstodo.Partofmeisdyingtogethalfaninchcloser,tofeelevenjustafractionoftheelectricityofourchangingroomencounter.ButI’mstillbothered.JustbecauseScottRitchieturnedoutnottobeaviciouscheaterdoesn’ttakeawaythefactthatIdon’tdohookupsanymore,especiallynotwithmygymnemesis—aguywhowaltzesaroundthegymlikehe’sthesecondcomingofChristhimself.Thatkindofarrogancedoesn’tsitwellwithme.
“Ican’tbelieveher,”Imutterindispleasure.
Scottchuckles,armsfoldedagainsthisbroadchest.“Shethinksshe’ssosmooth.”
“Feelfreetoleaveifyouwant.Icanjustbringherhome.”
Heshakeshishead,meetingmygaze.“Nah,I’mgood.”
“Well,there’snopointinbothofushangingaround.”Realistically,himleavingisbetterforthebothofus,aswellasthestateofmymakeup,whichismeltingoffmyfaceliketheWickedWitchoftheWestwhendousedwithwater.
Hisexpressionremainsunbothered.Infact,hislipsarecurledupeversoslightly.Ithinkhemightbeenjoyingthis.Thatmakesoneofus,atleast.IseriouslywishI’ddoubleduponthedeodorantthismorning.Itrytosneakalookatmyarmpits,butI’mdirectlyinScott’speripherals.There’snowaytodothisdiscreetly.
We’restandinginidenticalcrossed-armposes,listeningtoGrandmarattleoffherdietandexerciseroutineoverthepastmonth.
Scott’seasysmiledoesn’tleavehisface.UntilBrandybringsouttheneedles.WhenshewrapsthelittlerubberbandjustaboveGrandma’selbow,Scottsucksinadeepbreath,loudenoughformetohear.AsBrandyraisestheneedle,heimmediatelysways,turningtofaceme.Hiscomplexionhasturnedunusuallypale.Infact,it’sghostlywhite.
“Youalright?”Iask,elbowinghimintheribs.
Henods,avertinghisgazeupwardasshebeginstoinserttheneedle.“I,uh,justreallyhateneedles.”
I’msilentforamomentasIregisterthiscompletelyunexpectedfact.“ScottRitchiehasafearofneedles?”
Henods,eyesstillfixedontheceiling,hisAdam’sapplebobbing.
“Really?”Iask,expectinghimtosnapoutofitandadmithe’sjoking.
Whenheaccidentallycatchessightofthesecondneedle,henearlygags.
“Scott,dear,doyouneedtoleavetheroom?”Grandmaasksfromthechair.
Heshakeshishead,reachingforthenearbysink,grippingtheedge.“Nope.I’mgood,”hesaysthroughclenchedteeth.
“Whatisitaboutneedlesyoudon’tlike?”Iask.
Hecontortshisface,asifI’vejustaskedanoutrageousquestion,likewhywouldonedislikediarrhea,orSTDs?“Theyhurt.”
“Saystheguywhofightsfires.”
Hehuncheshisshoulders.“Iwearfireproofgear.”
Ieyehimforamoment,unconvincedthatfightingfiresandneedlesareremotelycomparable.“Ithinkyoushouldgositinthewaitingroom.”
GrandmaFlonods.“Yes,whydon’tyougowithhim,Crystal?Makesurehe’sokay.”
ImaynotlikeScottasahuman,butIdon’twanthimpassingoutinpublicoveratinyneedle.IrollmyeyesasIleadhimoutoftheexaminationroom.
Hetakesadeepbreathwhenwereachtherelativeserenityofthewaitingarea.IdirecthimtoachairoutofPixieWoman’slineofsight.SheleansaroundthedrywallcolumntocatchanotherthirstyglimpseofScott.Heplunksintothechair,coveringhiseyeswithhishand,hislonglegsoutstretched.
Ibendforwardinfrontofhimtoexaminehisface.It’sstillpale.“I’llberightback.”
Ronnie,thereceptionist,glancesupatmewithaboredstare,asifpeoplenearlypassingoutintheofficeisjustatypicalday,whichitprobablyis.“CanIhelpyou?”
“Doyouguyshaveanythingforgrownmenwhofeelfaint?Somethingsugary?”
Shegivesmeasilentnodandwheelsherchairbackward.Withoutevenstanding,shereachesintotheminifridgeandproducesajuicebox.
“That’sperfect.Thankyou.”Igratefullypluckthetinyboxfromherlimphand.
Ihaven’tphysicallyheldajuiceboxsincesixthgrade,beforeitbecamewildlylametobringapackedlunchtoschool.I’mamazedathowtinytheyare.
“Here,thismightmakeyoufeelbetter.”Iinsertthetinystraw,tossingtheplasticonthesidetablefornow.
Heopenshiseyes,squinting.“Applejuice?”
“It’llhelp.Shutupanddrinkit.”
Hecomplies,drinkingquietlyfromthestraw.I’lladmit,watchingasix-foot-twoalphamalefiremandrinkachildren’sjuiceboxisstrangelyattractive.WhyamImoreattractedtohimwhenhe’svulnerableandinneedofmedicalattention?Ipushthatthoughtaside.It’sadeeperissueforanothertime.
Withinthreesips,hefinishesittothelastdrop.“Thanks,Crystal.”Hemanagesaweaksmile.
“Doneedlesreallyaffectyouthatmuch?”
Heplaceshisfingersoverthebridgeofhisnose.“Yup.Iavoidthem.Atallcosts.”
“Isitthebloodyoudon’tlike?”
“No.I’mfinewithblood.It’stheneedleitself.”
“You’retellingmeyounevergettheflushot?You’dpreferworshippingtheporcelainGod,pukingyourbrainsout,overameaslyneedle?”
Henods.
Ipullbackfromhimdramatically,givinghimafunnystare.“You’reananti-vaxxer,aren’tyou?”Iwhisperconspiratorially.
Hiscolorisbacknow.Hegivesmeahalfsmile,whichmakesmyheartflutter.“Definitelynot.Ibelieveinmodernmedicine.Ijustreallyhateneedles.”
“Neverwouldhaveexpectedthat.”
“See?Icomefullofsurprises.”Heholdsmecaptivewithhisdimples.
Idon’tknowifit’sthejuicebox,orthefactthathe’sterrifiedofneedleslikeayoungchild,butI’mmarginallycharmed.
Hewavesahandtowardme.“It’sonlyfairthatyoutellmesomethingyouhate.”
“Whenpeopledon’tcleanthemachinesatthegym,”Isaypointedly.
Heshakeshishead,unsatisfied.“Nope.Doesn’tcount.Ialreadyknewthat.”
Isigh,succumbingtothetemptationoflearningmoreabouthim.“Oneforone?”
“Sure.”
“Okay…Ialsohaterestaurantswithlaminatedmenus.They’realwaysstickyanditfreaksmeout.”
Herunsahandalonghischinindeepthought.“Related,Ihatebumperstickers.”
“Thelastsipinawaterbottle.”
“WhenI’mtryingtosendsomeoneaGIFwithanaccompanyingmessageandtheysendamessagebeforetheGIFgoesthroughandit’salloutoforder.”
Ican’thelpbutcackleatthatone.“Facebookfriendsuggestions.Like,no,ex-boyfriend’snewgirlfriend.Idonotwanttobefriends.”
“Peoplewhoflooritatgreenlights.What’stherush?”
Iinterruptourgame,noddingtowardhiswell-fittedT-shirt.“Didyoucomeherestraightfromwork?”
“Nope.Gotthedayoff.Iusuallyworkthreeorfourtwelve-hourshiftsandthengettherestofthedaysoff.”
Icringe,feelingguiltyyetagainthatGrandmaschemedtogethimhereononeofhisdaysoff.
“Whatdoyoudowhenyouaren’tfightingfires?”
Herunshishandoverhisjaw.“Imostlyspendsomequalitytimewithmydog,Albus,getmygroceries,gotothegym,catchtheoddgamewithfriends.You?”
“Thatsoundsawfullyadult.”Isilentlyappreciatethesimplicityofhisanswerwhilepurposelynotreciprocatingmyresponse.
Hegivesmeaneasysmile.“I’mathirty-year-oldman.I’dhopeso.”
“Howlonghaveyoubeenatthefiredepartment?”
“You’resuddenlyveryinterestedinmylife.”
ImakeaconcertedefforttoflattenwhatIassumeisaborderlinemanicgrin.“No.I’mnot.JusttryingtolearnyourweaknessessoIcanexploityou.”
Heshrugs.“Fairenough.I’vebeenwiththefiredepartmentsinceaftercollege.Iwasluckyandgotinprettymuchrightaway.”
“Didyoualwayswanttobeafirefighter?”
Hecrushesthejuiceboxinhisfistandcloseshislefteye,aimingitintothetrashcanacrosstheroom.Itlandswithaperfectclunk.Heglancesatmetriumphantly.“Mygrandpaalwaystalkedaboutit,soitwasinthebackofmymind.ButIdidn’tthinkaboutitseriouslyuntilhighschool.”
Icastastealthglanceathisbiceps,unabletostopthequestionfromrollingoffmytongue.“Haveyoueverbeeninoneofthosenakedfirstrespondercalendars?”
Thecornersofhislipsturnup.“Why?Wantacopyforyourwall?”
“Don’tflatteryourself,”Iscoff,refrainingfromrequestingthispotentialcalendarenlargedinpostersize.
BeforeIbreakdownandinquire,GrandmaFlocomesstridingthroughthelobby,hermonstrousredpursedrapedoverherelbow.HergazenarrowstoScott.“Scotty,areyoualright?”
Hestands,asgoodasnewagain.“Yup.NurseCrystalhealedme.”Heflashesmeawink.
“Igavehimajuiceboxfromreception,”Iexplain,standingtofollowthemtowardtheexit.
Shepatshimonthebicepaffectionatelyashegraciouslyholdsthedooropenforher.“I’mterriblysorrytohavetroubledyou,Scotty.Igetallmixedupwiththeplanssometimeswithsomanyappointments,youknow?ButI’mperfectlyfinetohaveCrystalbringmehome.”
Iexpecthimtobevisiblyannoyedthathe’sjustwastedanhourofhistime,waspresentedwithhisphobia,andnearlyfaintedintheprocess.Buthedoesn’tappearrattled.Whenhegivesheraneasysmile,Iwonderifanythingtrulyfazeshim.“Noworries,Flo.Youcanalwayscallifyouneedme.”
We’reonthesidewalkoutsidetheclinic.Scottlooksfrustratinglyrelaxed,innorushtogoanywhere.Asthetwoofthemmakesmalltalkabouttheweather,allIcanthinkaboutisthatcalendar.Isheinoneornot?ImakeamentalnotetogoogleitthemomentI’minprivate.AndthenIchidemyself.Stopthinkingabouthowhiseyeslooklikebladesofgrassonasummerday.Orbetteryet,hiscutbiceps.It’sirrelevant.Allofit.
Scottisarrogant.Impossiblycharmingwithoutbeingsmarmy.Probablyaplayerwho’llgobacktohisexaftergettingwhathewantsfromme.ExactlythekindofguyIdon’twanttotouchwithaten-footpole.
“Well,tellGrampsIsayhi,”hesaystoGrandmaFlo,handsinhispocketsasweheadtowardmycar.
I’mwalkingatabriskpacecomparedtoameanderingGrandmaFlobecauseI’vegotshittodotoday,likefilminganutritionQ&A.Idon’thavetimetodillydallymakingforcedconversationwithmyenemyinaparkinglot.
“Oh,that’sright.HewantedmetoremindyoutocomeoverfortheBlackhawksversustheBruinsnextweek.Ifyou’reoff,”Grandmatellshim.
“I’llbethere.”Hedipshischinasshegetsinthecar.
Itwistmykeysaroundmyfingersbeforeopeningthedriver’ssidedoor.“You’reaBlackhawksfan?”
“Isthereanyotherwaytolive?”hedeadpans.
“Reasonnumberfive,”Imutter.
Apleasedlookovercomeshim.“Ifinditfascinatingthatnotoneofthosefivereasonsactuallyincludesnotbeinginterestedinme.Sofar,allI’mhearingareweakexcuses.”
Itrymyhardesttomaintainachillfa?ade.SomuchsothatI’mleftwithabsolutelyzerochillontheinside.Ihatemyselfforgettingflusteredoverhimandhispersistence.Hiscockinessisgrowingold.OureyeslockandIclearmythroat.“Fine.Reasonnumbersix:I’mnotinterestedinyou.”
“Ifthatweretrue,I’dacceptit.ButI’mnotconvinced.”Thatmakestwoofus.Hesearchesmyfaceforamoment,givingmeachancetobackpedal.
“Don’tholdyourbreath,Scott.Idon’tdateguyslikeyou.Period.”
Heletsoutastrangledlaugh,glancingatacarpassingby.“Butyou’llaccostmeinchangingrooms,though,right?”
Ifreeze,angerspiking.It’sbadenoughhewon’tletthisgo,buttosayitinfrontofmyconservativegrandma?IscowlandshutthecardoorsoGrandmaFlocan’thearus.“Wearen’ttalkingaboutthat.Stopbringingitup.”
“Arewejustactinglikeitdidn’thappen?”
It’snotnecessarilythatIwanttoactlikeitdidn’thappen.Buttalkingaboutitseriouslyaffectsmyresolve.IfI’mgoingtosurvivethefourmonthsuntilFloandMartin’snuptialswithoutbreakingmyvowtomyselfanddivingheadfirstintotrouble,Ineedtosquashthissexualenergybetweenus,andquick.“Yes.Weare.AsfarasI’mconcerned,itdidn’thappenatall.”
Hesnapshisheadback,hisjawtensing.“Alright.Fine.”
“Fine.”
Heshakeshishead,unabletoleaveit.“Iamcurious,though.Youmadesuchabigdealovermehavingagirlfriend,whichmeansyoucareonsomelevel.AmIwrong?”
Hemaynotbeacheater,butitcertainlydoesn’texcludehimfrombeingaplayer.Scott’sflirtingissonatural,itmustbetheresultofamplepractice.Andrealistically,hehaseveryright.He’sasingleguy.Hecandowhathewants.Butnothingpositivecancomeoutofthisformeexceptinevitabletearsandheartbreak.JustlikewithNeil.
Ilevelhimwithahardgaze.It’stimetodropthetruthbomb.“Scott,you’rearrogant.You’reusedtogettingwhatyouwantinlifebecauseyou’rehotandyouknowit.Andtheonlyreasonyou’regettingrattledrightnowisbecauseI’mtellingyounoandyoudon’twannahearit.Eitherthatoryou’retoomuchofaNeanderthaltotakethehint.”
Hisjawisslackinbewilderment,asifI’vesaidsomethinginsane.“Isthatwhatyoureallythink?”
“Myopinionhasn’tchangedinthelastthreeseconds.”Istruggletospitthosewordsout,becauseIrememberhowhe’spetrifiedofneedleslikeachild,andhowhewaskindenoughtopickupmygrandmotherfromherappointmentonhisdayoff.Unfortunately,allofthatiscloudedbyhiscockiness.
Hescoffs,handsonhips,stancewide.“It’sfunny…you’remakingsnapjudgmentsaboutmewhenyoupreachthismessageofself-loveandnostereotypes.You’reahypocrite,Crystal.”
Iflinchathiswords.Heisn’twrong.ButIcan’tforgethisassholeattitudewhenherefusedtoleavemysquatrack,amonghisseriesofaffrontsagainstme.It’snotmyfaulthispersonalityhappenstomatchthestereotype.
Hestartsstompingoff,butafteracoupleangrystrides,hepivots.“Andbytheway,youcanresteasyknowingI’mnotpursuingyou.MyNeanderthalbraingotthehint.Loudandclear.”
???
GRANDMAFLOISstarksilentwhenIhaulassintothecarandslamthedoor.She’sdefinitelyoverheardourargumentthroughthewindow.SheknowssomethinghappenedbetweenScottandme,andI’membarrassed.Ibraceforalectureonthedriveback,butshedoesn’tsayawordaboutit.Instead,sheprattlesonaboutherweddingplans,whichincludehavingTaraandmeasherbridesmaids.Apparently,Istillgetthepleasureofdonningtheill-fittingpeachmaidofhonordressIpurchasedforTara’swedding.Luckyme.
“Thanksfortheride,dear,”shesayswhenwereachherdriveway.“Remindme,nexttimeyoucomein,IneedhelpwithmyiPad.Ican’tfigureouthowtoturnoffthosedarndingseverytimeIgetamessage.Scaresthejeepersoutofmeeverytime.”
Imusterafakesmile.“Soundsgood.”
Justasshe’sabouttoclosethepassengerdoorandwavemeoff,shepopsherheadbackin.“Youknow,youweren’tverynicetopoorScottyintheparkinglot.”
Andthereitis.“He’snotalwaysnicetomeeither.”
Herglareisterrifyingenoughtoscareahardenedcriminalintosubmission.“That’snotanexcuse.”
“But—”
“Apologizetohim,Crystal.”chaptertwelve
IT’SBEENTHREEdayssincemyunintendedconfrontationwithScott,anddespiterepeatedordersfromGrandmaFlo,Ihaveyettoapologize.Infact,I’mall-outavoidingthegymduringthetimesIknowhemightbethere—eightinthemorningoraftersixintheevening—dependingonwhetherhe’sworkingdaysornights.
Witheachpassingday,theguiltofmytruthbombsetsin.Ishouldn’thavesaidwhatIsaid,eveniftherewasakerneloftruthtoit.Scottmaybeacocky,infuriatinghuman,buthedidn’tdeserveaverbalassault,nordidhedeservetobecalledaNeanderthal.
I’vethoughtatlengthabouttextinghimtomakethingsright,butIdon’tbecause,apparently,I’manemotionallyineptindividual.TellinghimI’msorrywouldbetherightthingtodo,butmypridecan’ttakeit.Ialreadyfalselyaccusedhimofunhygienicgympracticesandadultery.NowI’vepreemptivelystruckonceagain.There’snowayhe’llacceptsomeflimsyapology,whichiswhyImakethewisedecisiontoleaveitbe.
It’sbetterthisway,IthinktomyselfasIjourneytomeetGrandmaFloatherfloristappointment.Tarawassupposedtogo,butshegotcalledintowork.
WhenIpullintotheparkinglotatthedodgystripmallthathousestheflorist,GrandmaFlowavesmanicallyfromthesidewalk,likeakidnappingvictimflappingtheirarmsforhelponthesideofaremotehighwayaftermakingadaringescape.ShecrowdsmeasIgetoutofthecar,readytopullmeintoahug,asifwedidn’tjustseeeachotherafewdaysago.
“SorryI’mlate,”Isay.“Avirtualsessionwithaclientwentalittlelongerthanexpected.”IleaveoutthefactthatIleftinsuchafrenzy,Iforgottoputonabra.IrealizedthiswhenIzoomedoveraspeedbumpandmydoubleDboobspracticallyhitthesunroof.ItoccurredtomethatIcouldcarryonbraless,butthere’snotamingtheminathintanktop.Intheabsenceofunderwiresupport,there’sahighriskofanipslipifIbendacertainway.GrandmaFlowouldcondemnmeuntiltheendoftime,soIdoubledback.
“Nomatter.Myappointmentisover.”Shewavesavaguehandandtakesthelibertyofhikingmytanktoptomychintocovermycleavage.Shesmiles,satisfiedInolongerlooklikeajezebel.
Iknitmybrow,checkingthetimeonmyphone.“I’monlytenminuteslate.Didtheytakeyouearly?”
Shegivesmeabriefnod.“Iwasthinkingwecoulddosomethingfun.Spendsomequalitytimetogether.”ShegestureslikeVannaWhitetotheunitnexttotheflorist.TheblacksignreadsBattleAxeinabold,white,graffiti-esquefont.
“Grandma,that’sanaxe-throwingestablishment.”Ifeeltheneedtoclarify,becausethere’snowaymycrochet-queengrandmotherisinterestedinaxethrowing,theverysameactivityundertakenbypeoplewhoexclusivelywearplaidandthinkthey’rehard-core
“It’sonmybucketlist,”sheinformsmecasually,asifit’saperfectlynormalactivityforfrail,elderlywomen.Sheproceedstotugatmyarm,yankingmetowardthedoorwithmoreforcethanexpected.
Whenthedooropens,thescentofcedar,freshlychurneddirt,andtestosteroneslapsmeintheface.Amassivelumbersexualdudesportingaman-bunandapredictableflannelshirtgivesusaninvitingwavefrombehindanexpansivewoodendesk.TherearenowordsexchangedbetweenhimandGrandma.Theyjustsmileateachotherconspiratorially,ignitingmysuspicion.
Ieyehimsidewaysashepointstoasinister,all-blackhallwaytotheleft.Hemotionsforustofollowhim.“You’reallsetupinlanetwo,”hetellsGrandmaFlo.
“Excuseme?”Icastanaccusatoryglareatherasweemergeintoalarge,openroom.
Therearetenspaces,separatedbywirefences.Eachsectioncontainsitsownwoodenbull’s-eyeandplatform.Thespaceonthefarrightisoccupiedbyagroupofhipstercollege-ageguys.They’redefinitelynotherewiththeirgrandmas.
Everythinginhereiseitherwood,plaid,orstuffed(therearetwotaxidermieddeerheadsmountedoneachfarwall).Thisissonotmyscene.NorisitGrandmaFlo’s.
Whywouldshegototheeffortofpre-planningthis,pretendingitwasanimpromptudecision?
Andthat’swhenIhearit.Twoboisterousvoices.Twomenemergefromwhatappearstobeahallwayleadingtotherestrooms.
ScottandMartin.
???
I’VEBEENAMBUSHED.NowonderIhavetrustissues.
Martinplowsforwardtofoldmeintoaheartyembrace.Hesmellslikealibrary,oldpaperandsmokymahogany.Throughmyshock,Ireturnhishug.It’severythingatypicalgrandpahugshouldbe,wholeheartedandreassuring.
Oritwouldbe,ifScottwasn’tservingmemenacinglooksfrombehindMartin’sshoulder.Basedonthefactthathe’sgrimacingatmeasifI’mavilepresence,sufficetosaythathe’snotoverourlastencounter.
“Hi,”Isqueak,breakingmyhugwithMartin.
There’sapauseasScottandIsizeeachotherup.MytenacitylastsalloftensecondsbeforeIlookawaylikeaweakling.I’mnotupforthechallenge.Infact,I’mabouttoblurtoutanapologyforthePTSDhemayormaynotbesufferingfrommywrath,untilIzeroinonhishand.
He’swieldinganaxe.Whenhisgazenarrowstomyface,I’mconvincedhe’sabouttolaunchitsmack-dabintothecenterofmyforehead.He’scertainlycalculatinghowmuchforcehe’llrequireforacleanshot,orplottingsomethingequallysinister.He’spracticallyJackNicholsoninTheShining.
Withoutsomuchasagreeting,heturnshisshoulderandstompsintothecage.GrandmaFloandMartindon’tacknowledgetheobvioustensionbetweenus.They’retoobusyobservingwithbatedbreathasSaintScottsauntersontotheplatform.Hewastesnotimebeforeexpertlyoverhand-pitchingtheaxetowardthetargetwithonehand.Itpiercesthecenterofthebull’s-eyesosmoothly,italmostlookseffortless.
Asthegrandparentsclapandholler,ferventlypraisingScott’ssuperhumanathleticability,Igulp.Imustkeepwatch.Fromallangles.He’sliabletomurdermeincoldblood.Thisseemsliketheperfectplacetodoit.Itwouldbeeasyenoughtofakeaslipofhandandpretenditwasnothingbutatragic,bloodyaccident.
“Spendalotoftimepracticing?”It’smyhalf-assedattempttoemitaneutralvibeashewaltzespastme,tossinganotheraxeintheair.
Hecatchesitlikeit’sabaseballandnotabladedweapon.He’sseeminglypleasedwithhimselffordemonstratinghispreciseassassinskills.Whenhecomesface-to-facewithme,thesmirkdrops,replacedbypureanimosity.“Yup.InbetweenbeingawomanizerandaNeanderthal.”Histoneiscasualenoughsoasnottoalarmourgrandparents.Itjustcomesofflikeanoddlyplacedjoke.HeturnshisgazetoGrandma,gentlyhandinghertheaxe.
Surprisingly,she’sbetteratthisthanIwouldhaveexpectedforawomanwearingextra-wide,orthopedicloafers.Onherthirdtry,shemanagestosinktheaxeintothewood,despitenothittingthetarget.
Aftercongratulatinghisbride-to-be,Martinclapsmeontheback,givingmeagentlepushforward.“Crystal,youneedtogivethisawhirl.It’sagoodstressreliever.”Ibetitis.Forcrazedlunatics.
Scottsnorts.“Yeah,Crystal.Whydon’tyoucomerelieveallthatpent-upanger?Itmightevenhelpwiththoseaggressivemoodswings.”HeholdsmecaptivewithhisstareashedislodgesGrandmaFlo’saxefromthetarget.
“Uh,it’sfine.I’mfinerighthere.Martin,yougofirst,”Istammer,sweatpoolingatthebaseofmyback.
“Iinsist.Ladiesfirst.”Martinkindlystepsaside,usheringmetowardScott.
Scottholdsouttheaxe,handlefirst.
Iswallowagolfball–sizelumpinmythroat,eyeinghimwithtrepidation.Itakeithesitantly.It’slighterthanitlooks.“Dothestaffnotgiveanysafetydemos?”Iask,delaying.
GrandmaFlonods.“Theydid.Beforeyouarrived.Butit’sokay.Scottywillshowyoutheproperform.”
Scottflashesherapainfullyfakesmile,clearlydisturbedbytheprospectofbeingwithinathree-footradiusofme
“I’mgood.”Inervous-cough,wobblingasIhopontotheplatform.I’mnaturallycompetitive.Ican’tfailandshowweakness,especiallyafterScott’sshow-offperformanceandcovertjabs.Heregoesnothing.Iclosemylefteye,swingingtheaxeovermyhead.
“Holyshit!”Scott’sstronggripcatchesmyhandsamillisecondbeforetheaxeisreleased,rudelypryingthehandlefrommyfingerswithoutanounceofdelicacy.Hiseyesarewide,likethoseofanantisociallonerlivingoff-gridinaone-bedroomcabinwithnoelectricity.
Iwhiparound.“Dude,what’syourdeal?”
Heholdstheaxeoutofreach.“Yourformwasallwrong.Areyoutryingtokillsomeone?”
Irollmyeyesinoffense,makingadramaticshowofsuffering.“JustbecauseI’mawomandoesn’tmeanI’mautomaticallyanuncontrollableliabilitywithaweapon.Icanhandlemyself,youknow.Iplayedtennisinhighschool,”Iadd,knowingdamnwelltennisandaxethrowingarenotremotelysimilar.
Hedoesn’trespond.Instead,hegrufflyclaspsmyshoulders,physicallyspinningmearoundtofacethetarget.Ihavetoadmit,beingmanhandlediskindofhot.“Whathanddoyouuse?”hedemands.Histoneisglacial,contrastingthewarmthofhischestasitgrazesthewidthofmyback.
Jesus.“Uh,I’mright-handed.”
Withhiscallousedfingers,heshovestheaxeintomyrighthandfrombehind.Hepositionsmypalmonthebaseofthehandlebeforefoldingmylefthandoverittohugmygrip.Then,hekicksmyleftfootouttolineupwithablackmarkontheplatform.“Now,whenyoulettheaxego,doitateyelevel.Notaninchhigherorlower,”heinstructsasheguidesmyarmsupward.
AllIcandoisnod.I’msurprisedI’mevenstillbreathingwithhisbodypracticallyenvelopingmelikethis.ItrytoridmymindoferrantthoughtsasIfollowthroughinonesmoothmotion.Theaxelands,sinkingintotheedgeofthetarget.
IturntothankScottforhisshockinglyadvantageousassistance,buthe’snolongerbehindme.Myfirstassumptionishe’sdramaticallyduckingforcover,butinstead,he’ssmile-noddinginanimatedconversationwithGrandmaFloasifIdon’texist.Themancanturnhischarmonandofflikealightswitch
Wecyclethroughourturnsforthenextfortyminutes.Scottnailspracticallyeveryshot,asdoesMartin,whohappilyremindsusthatfirefighterswieldaxesaspartoftheirequipment.It’sanunfairadvantage,asfarasI’mconcerned.GrandmaFloimprovesbytheendofit,despiteherconcernshe’sthrownouthershoulder.
Whenourtimeisup,thefourofuswalkoutinsinglefile,spillingontotheblazinglyhotsidewalk.“Wasn’tthisjusttheloveliesttime?”GrandmaFlo’sgazejumpsbackandforthbetweenScottandmehopefully.
Hasshenotnoticedhowwe’veavoidedeachotherliketheplaguetheentiretime?Asidefromwhenhesocourteouslyhelpedmewithmyform.
“Yeah,itwasfun,”Isay.Truthfully,axethrowingiskindofexhilarating.Thesatisfactionofhittingthetargetisaddicting.AndeventhoughMartinregaleduswithlong-windedtalesofyesteryearwhenhewasafirefighter,Iactuallyfoundmyselfamusedbyhisstories.
“We’llcatchyoukidssoon.Nicetoseeyou,Crystal.AndScotty,tellyourmotherIsaidhi.”Martinwavesashelumbersintothedriver’sseatofhisLincoln.Astheybackoutoftheirparkingspot,Scottwalksoffinsilence,presumablytohiscar.
Istandtherelikeanidiot,staringathisbackforfartoomanypacesbeforetheguiltbecomestoomuch.
“Scott?”Icallout.
Hestops,waitingafewbeats.Thenheslow-pivotstofaceme,armscrossedinawidestance.
Mylegscarrymehalfwaythroughtheparkinglot,stoppingacouplefeetinfrontofhim.Whenhisfieryeyesmeetmine,mymindblanks,renderingmeincapableofformingapropersentence.“I,uh,Iwantedto,um…tothankyou.”
Hisforeheadcreases.“Thankmeforwhat?”
“Forhelpingmewithmyform,”Ispitout.I’msuchacoward.
“Didn’tdoitforyou.Ididitinthenameofpublicsafety.”
Idipmychin,squintingintothebeatingsun.“Ialsowantedtosay…I-I’msorry.”
Hisfaceflickerswithmomentarysatisfactionbeforehepullsitbacktoanexpressionworthyofadrillsergeant.“You’resorryforwhat?”Damn,heisnotlettingmeoffeasy.
Ibitemylip.“Iapologizefortheotherday.Forstereotypingyou.Forassumingyouwereaman-whore.AndforcallingyouaNeanderthal.Itwasuncalled-forandhypocritical.”
There’saprolongedpauseashesearchesmyface.Ithinkhe’swaitingtoseeifI’llwalkbacktheapology,butIdon’t.Finally,herunshishandalongthebackofhisneckandnods.“Thanks.”
Moresilence.Thelongerhestaresatthecrackedpavement,thefurtherIsinkintoguilt.
“Ireallymessedup.IhavesometrustissuesIneedtoworkthrough,”Isay,bowingmyhead.
WhenIlookup,hisfacesoftensslightlyashemeetsmyeyes.“It’sfine.”
“So,arewecoolnow?”Iaskhopefully.
Herocksbackonhisheels,unfoldinghisarms.“Iguessso.”
Inervouslytwirlapieceofmyhairaroundmyfingers.“Thatdoesn’tsoundoverlyconvincing.”
“Crystal,I’mfine.Areyouconvincednow?”HegivesmeaforcedChandlerBingsmile.
Ireleaseanexasperatedsigh.“Whydoyouhavetobesodifficult?DoIneedtogiveyoumyfirstbornchild?Sellmysoul?”
He’spensiveforamoment,asifhe’sactuallyconsideringit.Thenhislipsfinallyturnintothatself-satisfiedsmileIknowalltoowell.Asaggravatingasitmaybe,I’mrelievedit’smadeareappearance.“Meetmeatthegymtomorrow,”heinstructs.
“Thegym?”
“Yup.We’llbedoingmychoiceofworkout,though,”hesaysashestartstowardhiscar.
I’mtemptedtosayyes,simplybecauseIdon’tshyawayfromachallenge.Andmaybebecauseseeinghimworkoutisasighttobehold.ButIalreadyknowitcan’tleadanywheregood.Iponderthispropositionuntilhe’salmostathiscar.“AndifIdoyourmysteryworkout,I’llbeforgiven?Justlikethat?”Icallout.
Evenfromadistance,hiseyesofferaglimmerofamusement.“Don’tunderestimateme,Chen.You’llbeworkingforit.”chapterthirteen
WHENMELINVITEDmetoherplacefora“workinglunch,”Ieagerlyaccepted.Admittedly,IwasexceedinglycurioustoseeifherapartmentwasasglamorousasitlooksonInstagram,sansfilter.Andjustlikeher,ittrulyis.
Themomentsheopensthedoor,sheshovesasparklingtrayfullofvariousfancy,bite-sizesandwichesinmyface.Anarrayofmacaroons,scones,andmimosasawaitsmeinhergleaming,all-whitekitchen.Sheclaimsshegetsitfromhermom,whoisthe“ultimateStepfordhostextraordinaire.”Eitherway,I’mnowappalledbymyownhostingskills,whicharelimitedtostore-boughttraysandchips,nobowl.
MellivesinoneofthosemodernbuildingsintheTheaterDistrictwithfloor-to-ceilingwindowsyoucanprobablyseedirectlyintofromaneighboringbuilding.Eventhoughit’saderangedstalker’sdream,it’sperfectforherInstagramaesthetic.IbeamandpointwhenIspotthedusty-rosevelvetchaisebythewindowwhereshetakesalotofherphotos,asifI’monaSexandtheCitytourscopingoutCarrieBradshaw’siconicfrontstoopforthefirsttime.
SpendingtheafternoonwithMelisamuch-neededdistractionfromthinkingaboutScottandhowI’msupposedtomeethimatthegymlatertodaytomendfences.Yes,Iwanttooglehimwithoutrestraint.Butthat’sneitherherenorthere.I’mdoingthisforpeace.Forthesakeofourfamilies.Endofstory.
I’mabouttoaskMel’sopiniononInstagram’snewalgorithmandmynosediveofengagementinthepastfewweekswhenalanky,bare-chesteddudelumbersintothekitchen.Hewearsnothingbutboxerscoveredincartoonhotdogs.Hiswildblondhairsticksstraightup,asifhe’sbeenthroughawindtunnel.
“Hey,you.”Hetreatsmetoaflirtatioussmile,chestpuffedout.He’sboyishlycute,ifIwereadecadeyoungerandstilldrinkingBudLightfromafunnel.
Melrollshereyes,givinghimadead-eyedstare.“Julian,growup.”
“Relax,Mel.I’mjustbeingfriendly.”Heshootsheradefiantlookandbeginstoriflearoundinthefridge,butnotbeforewinkingatme.HeslightlyresemblesaphotoI’veseenonlineofMel’slateadoptivefather,withhisbaby-blueeyesandnarrowface.
Melcastshimanindignantlookoverhershoulder.“Thisismycharm-voidofabrother,Julian.Julian,thisismytrainerandgoodfriend,Crystal.”Shepausesandleansin.“Iwouldn’tlivewithacollegestudentbychoice.Trust.Butmymomismakinghimstaywithmewhilehetriestofigurehislifeoutinthecity.”
“Soundsfamiliar.”Ichuckle,glancingatJulian,whoisimpatientlytappinghisfoot,waitingforthetoastertofinishcookinghisbagel.
“AtleastTara’stwenty-nine.”Mel’slipsturntoaslightfrown.“IwishIhadasister.”
“Sistersaregreat.Butonlysometimes.Whenthey’renotstealingyourshit.”Tarahasneverstolenmyclothes,givenoursizedifference.Butshe’salwaysswipingmymakeupandhairproducts.Irefocusmyattentiononmylaptop,whileinternallymourningtheexpensivesalon-qualityshampooshepolishedoffasofyesterday.
I’mworkingoncatchinguponthecommentsonmyrecentSizePositivepost.DespitethetrollsandhatefulfatphobiccommentsthatIcanbarelyreadbeforeIstarttoshake,I’mpleasedsomanypeoplearelovingit.Itmakesallthenegativecommentsworthit.
“Whichpresetlooksbetter?”Melasks,shovingherphonetwoinchesfrommyface.
Ileanback,squinting.Therearetwoside-by-sideshotsofherwearinganadorablepolka-dotdress.It’sthesamephoto,butoneisfilteredslightlydarker.
“First,thatdresslooksfireonyou.ButIlikethelighterone.”
“Same.Myboobslookbiggerinthatonetoo.”Shedouble-checksthephoto.“IthinkImightstartusingthepinkpreset.InoticedI’vebeengettingmoreLikesonthem.”
I’mabouttooffertosendhersomeofmyfavoritepresetswhenIreceiveanotification.
Ritchie_Scotty7isnowfollowingyou.
Mystomachsomersaults.
BeforeIcanevencontemplatefollowinghimback,Ireceiveanotificationthathe’slikedmymostrecentpost,avideoofmyabworkoutfromthedayhestolemyphone.
Withinaminute,I’vereceivedovertwentynotifications.Allfromhim.Thisisasurefiresignallisnotlost.Thathedoesn’tcompletelyhateme.
Ritchie_Scotty7haslikedyourpost.
Ritchie_Scotty7haslikedyourpost.
Ritchie_Scotty7haslikedyourpost.
Ritchie_Scotty7haslikedyourpost.
Ritchie_Scotty7haslikedyourpost.
???
INEARLYREGRETshowingupatthegymwhenScottemergesfromthechangingroomsportingasmug-assgrin,asifhealreadyknewIwouldcome.Ihadhalfamindnottoshowatall,butafterthosenotifications,whichwerelikelittleteasingremindersofhissexyexistence,Icouldn’tgethimoutofmyhead.Ikeptglancingatthetime,willingmyselftoresistputtingonmycutest,mostflatteringgymensemble,stayathome,andaskTaratohelpmecraftawrittenapologyinstead.Unfortunately,mywillpoweriszilch.
Myfaceflushesthemomentwelockeyes.Helookslikehe’sjuststeppedoffthecoverofaMen’sFitnessmagazine.Inanefforttorefrainfromgawkingathissquare-jawedbeauty,IcatchmyorangutanhairinthemirrorasIstretchmycalvesintheGymBroZone.Ihavedeepregretsaboutnotusinghairspraytoday.
“Well,well,well.Lookwhoactuallyshowedup,”heleers,hishumongousbottleofwaterdanglingfromhisindexfinger.
“Youlikedeveryoneofmypictures,”Isay,deflecting.
“Sorry,Iblackedout.Oneminute,Iwaslookingatyourprofile,checkingoutyourabvideo.Andthenext,Iwaslikingyourselfiesfrom2014.”
“You’reinsane.”Isecretlyadmirehishonesty,whilepretendingIhaven’tgoogledhishighschoolathleticaccomplishments.
“Areyougoingtofollowmeback?”heasks.“Itwouldbeasteptowardforgiveness.”
Ishrug.“MaybeIwill.MaybeIwon’t.ButifIweretofollowyouback,itwouldbepurelyforyourdog.”
Hebeamslikeaproudparent.
“AreyouaHarryPotterfan?”Iask.
Hestandsoverme.Evenfromanupwardangle,themanissohideouslyattractive,I’mconvincedsorceryisatplay.“Hellno.ButitwasalreadyhisnamewhenIadoptedhimfromtheshelter.Didn’thavethehearttochangeit.Figureditwouldconfusethepoorguy.”
Myheartfluttersinvoluntarilyatthethoughtofhimsavinghelplessdogsinshelters.Iimaginethemmomentsfrombeingeuthanizedbeforehebustsinandwhisksthemawaytoasprawlingfarm…Hisexpectantstarebringsmeoutofmyreverie.Igivemyheadaliteralshake,turningawayfromhismesmerizinggaze.
“So,arewejustgonnastandhereorareweworkingout?”Itrytolowermyvoicetoaserioustone.Itfailsmiserably.Isoundlikeachildtryingtoimpersonatetheirsternfather.
Hesnorts,pullingasmallslipofpaperoutofhispocket,scribbledwithwhatappearstobeaworkoutroutine.I’mprettysureIseethewordRevengeatthetopofthepage,ominouslyunderlinedmultipletimes.“Oh,we’reworkingout.”
He’snotbluffing.
HeputsmethroughakillerCrossFitcircuitinvolvingamaliciousnumberofroundsontheassaultbike,burpees,barbellfrontsquats,andboxjumps.Againwiththehostileactsofaggression,probablytotiremeoutsohecanlaunchsomesortofsurpriseattack.Itdoesn’thelpthathe’sracingme,ensuringhe’sfasterthanmethrougheverycircuit.WhenIcompletemyburpeesbeforehedoes,helookscertifiablydevastated.
We’requietthroughoutinbetweenpantingandgaspingforair.Iblamemyexcessivesweatingonthelittlesmileshe’sgivingme.Workingoutwithsomeonewhocouldpassasamoviestarismorechallengingthanexpected.
It’sstrangetobeinstructedbyhim.I’msousedtobeingtheonetellingotherswhattodo.NowIknowhowitfeelstobebossedaroundwhileonthecuspoffainting,orhurling,I’mnotsurewhich.
“I’mdonewiththis.IthinkI’mgonnapuke,”hepants,bentover,palmsrestingonhisknees.
“Hey,thisisallyourowndoing.Yoursicklittlerevengefantasy.”Ileanmyelbowonthesquatrack.“Idon’tthinkI’llbeabletowalktomorrow.”
“Thingsguysliketohearafteradate.”Hegivesmeamischievousgrinandquicklybacktrackswhenheseesmyjawdrop.Heholdshishandsinfrontofhim.“I’mjustkidding.Pleasedon’tkillme.”
Ireachout,givinghimalacklusterpunchinthechest.“You’reapig.Andthisisnotadate.”
Heshrugs,wipingthesweatfromhisforeheadwiththefabricofhisshirt.
Wesitface-to-faceonthefloor.Legsstretchedoutinfrontofme,Ipressthebasesofmyshoesagainsthistodeepenmystretch.Hisfeetarenearlydoublethesizeofmine.Holyshit.
Aseriesofimagesofagiganticpenisofthesamelengthflashthroughmymindatwarpspeed.MythroatinstantlydriesliketheSaharawhenIrecallhimhardagainstmeduringourchangingroommake-out,lendingseriouscredencetothissizeassociation.IthinkI’mgoingtorequireintensivetherapytogettheseimagesoutofmyhead.Itrytoswallow,butIendupcoughing.“Whatsizeareyourfeet?”
Adevioussmileformsonhisface.“Whydoyouwanttoknow?”
IgivehimadramaticeyerollasIcoughagain.“You’retheworst.”
“Youwalkedrightintothatone.”Hehandshiswaterbottletome.“I’msorry,though.Really.I’vedevelopedacrudesenseofhumorafteradecadeofworkinginafirehouse.”
Igratefullytakeasip,gazewanderingtothegymbroscrowdingthesquatracktocheertheirbuddyon.“So,haveyouforgivenmeyet?”
Heappraisesme,tiltinghisheadsidetoside,contemplating.“Nah,notyet.Yougotthroughthoseburpeestooeasily.”
Irollmyeyes.“Wouldmebeggingformercyandpukingonyourshoesbesatisfactory?”
Hedoesn’trespond.He’stoobusylookingoutthewindow.“Hey,let’sgetoutofhere.”chapterfourteen
IBLINK.“WHY?ANDwhere?”
“Dunno.”Scottshrugsandstands.“Butit’sabeautifuldayoutthereandIdon’tthinkweshouldwasteitinside.Isaywegoforicecream.Onyou,ofcourse.Sinceyou’restillgrovelingformyforgivenessandall.”
“Don’tyouCrossFittersexclusivelyeatpaleo?”I’minshock,whiletryingtomaintaintheillusionthatI’maserenebeing.IfbuyingScotticecreamcanearnhiscompleteandtotalforgiveness,I’llbuyhimalltheflavorsonthemenu.
“Notme.”Heshakeshishead,givingmeacuriousonce-over.“Doyounoteaticecream?”
“I’mlactoseintolerant.”
Heclutcheshischest,asifI’vetoldhimIonlyhaveamonthtolive.“Wow.Whatdidyoudotodeservethat?”
“Idon’tknow.Butitseriouslysucks.”
“GoodthingIknowagoodplacewithsorbet.It’sdownthestreet.”
Icastonelasthesitantgazetothedoorsoasnottoappeartooeager.
Turnsout,thequainticecreamshopdownthestreetisoneofthoseplaceswithamillionflavorsandtoppings,aswellasthoseartisanalchocolates.Afteragonizingovermydecisionforfartoolong,Isettleonatropicalswirlsorbet,andScottordersthesame.
“Isthistogetherorseparate?”themonotoneteenagerwearingaT-shirtthatreadsDabKingdronesfrombehindthecounter.
“Together.”Itfeelsweirdsayingit.Itcrossesmymindthattheteenagerprobablythinkswe’reacouple.Irelishthatthoughtforafewsecondstoolongbeforerealityhitsmeinthefaceagain.I’mnotthinkingabouthiminthisway.We’repurelyplatonicgymnemesesturnedacquaintances.Obviously.
“Youknowyoucouldhaveorderedanactualicecream,right?”Isayastheteenagerpassesoursorbetdishesoverthecounter.
“Ifeelbadeatingitinfrontofyou.Wouldn’twantyoutogetsecondhandcramps,orwhateverhappenstoyourstomach.”HetossesmeawinkasIdeclinetotakethereceipt.Onlyhecanmakeanindigestionjokeremotelycharming.
“That’strue.Youdon’twanttoseemecranky.”
“Isthatnotyournaturalstate?”hedeadpans.
Ibumphimwithmyshoulderonthewayoutoftheshop.Iwalkaheadafewpaces,forcingmymouthintoaneutralposition.I’msmilinglikeachildatDisneylandandIrefusetolethimseeit.I’menjoyingnon-hate-filledbanterwithhimfarmorethanheneedstoknow.
Wemakeourwaytothewaterfront.Thesuncastsaglitterylayeronthesurfaceofthewater.There’sasunsetcruiseboatdockedahead,justwaitingtobeboardedbytourists
“Isn’tAlbuslonelyduringthedaywhenyou’reatworkandatthegym?”Iask,scootingoverasamanwalkingatinyterrierinpinkbootsscurriespastusonthesidewalk.IwonderifScotthasbootsforAlbusDoodledore.
“Nah.Myroommate,Trevor,andIworkoppositeshiftsalot.He’satthesamestationasme,sohe’stypicallyattheapartmentwhenI’mnot.Hetakeshimforwalksandstuff.”
“Soundslikeagoodfriend.”
“Whenhe’snotbustingmyballsovertheBlackhawks,he’sadecentguy.”
I’mmomentarilydistractedbythesightofhimlickingsorbetoffhisspoon.“Idon’tknowifthisacquaintanceshipisgoingtoworkout.Ijustdon’ttrustBlackhawksfans.”
Hepointshisspoonatme.“Hey,whosayswe’reacquaintancesagain?HowdoyouknowI’veforgivenyou?”
Mystomachclenches.“Haveyounotforgivenme?”
“Ihave.Idon’treallyholdgrudges.”Hetreatsmetoacomfortingsmile.
Isnort.
“What?Doyouholdameangrudge?”
“No.”
Heeyesmeleerily.“Ihaveafeelingyouholdontothings.”
“Nah.Butmysisterdoes.ShefoundoutacoupleweeksagoherassholeexwasstillusingherNetflix.Soinsteadofchangingherpasswordlikeanormalperson,shemessedwithhisaccountalgorithmbywatchingthefirstthreeminutesofovertwentyrom-coms.Then,shewaitedforhimtobeonthesecond-to-lastepisodeofStrangerThingsbeforeswitchinghisaccount’smaturitysettingstoG-rated.”
Hetosseshisheadbackinheartylaughter.“Thatispuregold.”
“Ohyeah.Hewaspissed.That’swhatI’dcallaseriousgrudge.”Ipause,smilingatthememory.“AreyouaStrangerThingsfan?”
“Nope.Idon’treallywatchmoviesorTVatall,actually.”
Istopdead,slow-blinking.“Atall?”
“Notreally.IwatchTVsometimes.Preferablytwenty-minuteshows.”
“Butwhynotlongershows?Ormovies?Whatdoyouhaveagainstthem?”
Hegivesmeashysmile.“Ifallasleep.Everytime.”
Asweresumewalking,Ipicturehimcuddleduponacouchwatchingamovie.Hischestlooksveryinviting…“Maybeyoujusthaven’twatchedagoodmovie,”Isay,snappingoutofit.
“Nah.IjustgetcomfortableandendupdozingoffifI’mnotmoving.AgirloncebrokeupwithmebecauseIfellasleepatthemovietheateronadate.”
Iletthesorbetmeltonmytongue,savoringthetastealmostasmuchasI’msavoringthesightofhisadorablesmile.“Icanseewhyshehadabsolutelynochoicebuttodumpyou.”
“Hey,Itookhertoseesomechickflick.WhyshoulditmatterwhetherIwatcheditornot?Aslongasshelikedit.”
“It’spartofthemoviegoingexperience,Scotty.Otherwise,shemightaswellhavegonetothemoviesaloneandnothadtosharehersnackswithyou.”
“Maybeyou’lljusthavetoforcemetowatchone,”hesayswithasparklinggrin.
Isquintathim.“Doacquaintanceswatchmoviestogether?”
“Idon’tseewhynot.”
Ithrowmyemptysorbetdishintoanearbytrashcan.Ofcourse,hehastotrytoshoothisintothetrashlikehe’sLeBronJames.
“Soyoudothefitnessandpersonaltrainingthingfulltime?”heasksaswecontinuewalking.
“Yup.I’vebeendoingitsincecollege.”
“It’scrazyhowmanyfollowersyouhave.I’mreallyimpressed.”
“Thanks.”Idon’tlovetalkingaboutmyInstagramsuccess,becauseIfeellikeafraud.WhenpeopleaskhowIgainedmyfollowingandhowtheycanmakemoneyfromInstagramaswell,Ineverknowhowtoproperlyrespond.Idon’tknowwhatpromptedmyfollowing,asidefromadashofluck,research,andhardwork.Itsoundslametosay“Justbeyourself,”butit’strulywhatworkedforme.
“Whatmadeyouwanttostartyouraccount?”heasks.
“Iwasintosportsgrowingup.ThenIgotreallyintothegymincollegeasawaytode-stress.Obviously,thegymlifeisn’tforeveryone,butitwasreallytherapeuticforme.WhenIrealizedhowtoxicthefitnessindustrycanbe,especiallyonline,Iwantedtosetapositiveexampleforotherwomen.”Ipauseforamomentaswedodgeagroupofcyclistsbreezingbyus.“Like…forme,mybodytypewillneverbeskinny,solosingweightwasneverthegoal.Ijustloveliftingandpushingmyself.AndIwantedtohelpotherwomenlikemewhodon’talwaysfeelsoconfident,orwhodon’tknowwheretostartwiththegym.GettingpaidtopromotebrandsIloveisn’ttooshabbyeither.”
Iwatchhim,fullyexpectinghimtolaunchintoawell-meaningrantabouthowI’mnot“big,”orworse,offerunsolicitedadviceonweightloss,likesomanyothersI’vehadthepleasureofinteractingwith.
Buthedoesn’t.SoIcontinue.“Societytellsuswomenaren’tfitunlesswe’reasizetwowithwashboardabs.”
Hearchesabrow.“Theyobviouslyhaven’tseenyoukillitinthegym.You’reananimal.”
Iblush.“Thanks.Imean…Ijustthinkbeinghealthyisn’tjustaboutyoursizeoryourweight,butyourmindsetandyourmentalhealthtoo.”
Henodsthoughtfully.“Icompletelyagree.”
“SaysMr.AbsofSteel.”
Scottplayfullybumpsmyshoulderwithhis.“Iwasn’talwaysintothegym.”
“Oh,comeon.You’vehadabssinceatleastJulyof2016.”Uponrealizationofmyinadvertentadmission,Isneakasidewaysglanceathim.
Hislipstwistintoafunnysmile.“That’sveryspecific.Howdoyouknowthat?”
Mycheeksburn.I’mmortified,untilIrememberhelikedallmyphotossince2014.“YourInstagram,”Iadmitwithfauxconfidence.
“Soyoudidcreeponme.”
Ishrug.“Ihadtomakesureyouweren’taserialmurderer.Idon’tknowaboutyou,butI’mkindofpickyaboutnewacquaintances.”
“Iamhonoredtohavemadethecut.”Hepauses,hisfacegrowingserious.“Actually,though,Iusedtobesuperlankyandawkwardasakid.Iwasn’tevenintosportsoranythinguntilIgottohighschool.”
“Really?”Iask,unabletopicturehimwithoutmuscles.
“Yeah.WekindofstruggledforafewyearsbackwhenwelivedinIllinois.Cheapfastfoodandnomoneyfororganizedsports.Kidswereassholes.”
Iclosemyeyesforamoment,tryingtoconjuretheimageofScottasanoutcast.Ithinkbacktomyprepubescentselfinmiddleschool.TherewasayearmyfriendsdecidedIwasn’t“coolenough”anymore.I’dstandaloneatrecess,circlingtheperimeterofthefence,headdown,tooshytoapproachotherkids.“Neverwouldhaveguessedschoolwashardforyou.”
Hiseyesglossoverslightlyandhegritshisteeth,asifhewasgoingtoelaboratebutthoughtbetterofit.“Anyway,bythetimeIgottohighschool,weweredoingbetterfinancially.MydadgotareallygoodjobhereinBoston,andmymomwashappysinceitwasclosetobothgrandparents.SowemovedandIgottostartoverhere.Filledoutwithpuberty,Iguess.Thenjoinedsports.”
“Andthenyousuddenlybecamehotovernight?”
Hesmiles,keepinghiseyesahead.“Nah.Iwasstillsociallyawkwardashellinhighschool.Couldbarelytalktogirls,letalonehaveagirlfriend.”
Ican’thelpbutabsorbhisearnestsmilelikeasponge.Onthesurface,Scotthasalltheconfidenceintheworld.Butinreality,it’sanillusion.He’sjustliketherestofusmeremortals,stressingoverstupidthingswe’veaccidentallysaidoutloud.Itmakesmefeelevenworseaboutprejudginghim.Itisn’thisfaulthe’sagorgeousspecimen
“Idon’tfindyouawkwardatall.Theopposite,really.UnlessI’mjustequallyawkward.”
“Ididn’tsayI’mstillawkward,”hesays,flashinghisbewitchingsmile.
“Alwayssococky.”
“Well,nowthatyouknowmydarkestsecrets,whatdoyoudootherthangotothegym?”
“Notawholelot,tobehonest.”It’sonthetipofmytonguetotakebackthatstatementcompletely.DoIreallywanttotellhimI’mpracticallyarecluse?It’salwaysbeendrilledintomyheadthatbeingawallflowerissomehowlesser.ThatbeingoutgoinglikeDadismoredesirable.ButafterScott’srawhonesty,itfeelswrongtobeanythingbuttruthful.
“You’reahomebody?”
“Ohyeah.IhaveLululemonleggingsspecificallydesignatedforhomeandforgoingout.”
“Thatis…averyexpensivehabit,”heteases.
“WhatcanIsay,I’manintrovert.”
Heeyesmewithcuriosity.“Sojusthowintrovertedareyou?”
“I’llputitthisway:IfIhaveplansformorethantwoconsecutivenights,I’llprobablystressaboutitallweek.Oh,andifsomeonecancelsplans,itfeelslikeIwonthelottery.”
Hesmiles.“NowIknowhowtogetyoutolikeme.I’lljustmakeplanswithyouandthencancelthem.”Strangely,theideaofScottcancelingplansonmedoesn’tsoundnearlyasappealingasIwishitdid.
TalkingtoScottiseasy.Morethaneasy.Ifeellightandjoyful.Wehaveasimilarsarcastic,dirty-mindedsenseofhumor.Idon’tfeelthenecessitytopre-planwhatI’mgoingtosaynext.Itjustflowsout.Andifit’sawkward,hedoesn’tseemtonotice,oratleast,hedoesn’tmakeitobvious.
Bythetimewelooparoundthepier,I’vealreadymadealistofultra-longmoviesheneedstowatch,intheirentirety,obviously.Scottseemshappytoacceptthechallenge.Heisalsokeentoaskmerandomquestions,likewhomyfavoritesingeris(Lizzo),orwhereIwanttogoonvacation(NewZealand).I’vealsolearnedmoreabouthim.
Hisfavoritecolorisblue.Hedoesn’tlikecats,orpineapplesonpizza.HehadapetturtlenamedBobasachild.Healsohastwooldersisters(oneintheUKandtheotherinArizona),whoheclaimstorturedhimgrowingup(hehasascaronhisleftkneetoproveit).Sincehisdadpassedaway,he’stheonlyguyamonghismomandhissisters.
BythetimehegetsaroundtotellingmeabouthisunhealthyobsessionwithBillNyetheScienceGuy,wefinallyreachtheExcaliburFitnessparkinglot.
Heletsoutalongsigh.“WishIcouldkeeptellingyouembarrassingfactsaboutmylife,butIshouldgetbacktoAlbus.I’daskyoutocomebackandhangout,butit’sprobablytoosoonforhimtomeetyou.”
“AreyoualwaysthispickyaboutAlbusmeetingyouracquaintances?”
“Ofcourse.Ican’tjustbringrandompeopleintohislife.He’sstillimpressionableathisage.”
“Bytheway,thiswasn’tadateinanyway,shape,orform,”Iremindhim.“It’ssimplyanapologysorbetoutingbetweentwoformerstrangers,turnednemeses,turnedacquaintanceswhosegrandparentsaregettingmarried.Atruce.”
“Areyouconfirmingwe’renotmortalenemiesanymore?”
Inod.
Hegivesmeasatisfiedgrinandpullsmeintoacasualyetwarmhug.
7:35A.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“SIZEPOSITIVECAMPAIGN—FORTHOSEONTHEFENCEABOUTFITNESS”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Ihaven’talwaysbeenabossbitchinthegym.Truth.Justaskmy15-year-oldself.I’djustgottendumpedbymyveryfirstboyfriend—someganglykidnamedBobbywitha2.0GPAwhowasbestknownforeatinganentirebrickofmarblecheeseonadare.Iwasquiteliterallysobbingonthetreadmilloverhimafterschoolandactuallyslippedonmyowntearsandflewofftheback(skinnedmychinandbothknees).IthinkIwasunconsciousforacoupleseconds,becauseIwokeuptothemostpopularguyinschool(thinkPeterKavinskyonsteroids)holdingmyhandandrubbingmyback.LOL.
ThentherewasalsothefirsttimeIattemptedapull-upwithouttestingmygripstrength.Ifellass-firstontothehardfloor.AndthenthattimeIattemptedapush-upafterdoingachestsuperset.Ifull-outface-planted.
WhyamIsharingmyembarrassinggymstories?It’sforeveryonewhoisnervousaboutgettingintofitness.Itliterallycan’tgetworsethantheabovestories.Seriously.Andevenifyoudoembarrassthecrapoutofyourself,justremember,everygymregularhasastory,nomatterhowproand“fit”theymayseem.They’veallbeenthere.Trust.
Ifyou’reonthefenceaboutincorporatingfitnessintoyourlife(whetheratthegymorathome),orsimplygettingbackonthefitnesstrainaftertakingabreak,justtryitoutagain.I’mnotsayingeveryoneneedstoexercisetobehappy.I’mnotsayingyouneedtogetinthegymandliftweights.Fitnesshasbroughtmeandmanyothersalotofjoy.Butit’snotforeveryone,andthat’sokay.I’msimplyadvocatingforyoutomakethetimetodosomethingforyou.Evenjustgoforawalkaroundtheblockandclearyourmind.Orcurlupwithacomfortbook.Iguaranteeyouwon’tregretit!
Remember:Theworstpartaboutworkingoutisputtingonyoursportsbra.
Commentby_averyking:Itcanbefrustratinggettingbackintofitness,butit’ssoworthit.
Commentbygreenjay4:notsurprisedyourteenageboyfrienddumpedyou.
CommentbyKathyHilliker:LOLthesestorieskilledme.Thanksforputtingasmileonmyface!!chapterfifteen
ASTOCKYMANWITHbulgingsteroidbiceps,inamatchingyellowhelmetandsuspenders,grindshisjunkoverGrandmaFlototherhythmof“Pony”byGinuwine.It’sthelastthingIthoughtI’deverbearwitnessto.Iamindesperateneedofeyebleach.Stat.Unfortunately,thisimageisburnedintomymemoryforallofeternity
Compelledtopreservethespectacletoscarfuturegenerationstocome,Itookmultiplevideos.Thefootageisshakyatbest.It’sdifficulttohearthemusicoverthehigh-pitchedsquealinginthebackground,partiallythankstothemartinis.GrandmaFlo’showlinglaughterisunmistakableasshesnakesherhandsupanddowntheman’sbare,generouslyoiledchestwhileherlifelongbestfriends,AnnieandEthel,crowdaround,snappingblurryphotoswiththeirmassiveiPads.
ItwasAnnieandEthel’sideatoattendLadies’NightatastripclubforGrandma’sbacheloretteparty.Tarakindlyorderedanarrayofphallus-shapedsugarcookiesofallcolors,girths,andlengths.GivenGrandmaFlo’spearl-clutchingtendencies,Iwascertainthewholethingwasgoingtogotitsup—thatshe’dfindthenight’sactivitiescrudeand“unbecoming.”Butallmyfearswerehungouttodrywhenshemock–deepthroatedoneofthepeniscookiesforaphoto,withoutprompting.
Whoisthiswoman?Thissurelycan’tbethesameGrandmawhowashedmymouthoutwithDovebarsoapwhenIwastenafterIutteredthewordhellonaSunday—“theLord’sDay”—ofalldays.It’scertainlynotthesamewomanwhostrong-armedmyreligiouslyindifferentparentsintosendingTaraandmetoBiblecampforthreeconsecutivesummers.I’mbeginningtothinkshe’sbeenkidnappedbyaliens,replacedbyamuchcoolerreplica—upuntilshematter-of-factlyinformsTarashe’ll“neverkeepaman”ifshedoesn’tlearnhowtocook.
Istealthilyslipoutsideforabreather,parkingmyselfonthesidewalk,crunchingoneofthepeniscookiesIsnagged.Asidefromthethreatofanunwantedlapdance,theclubwasstartingtofeelcrampedandhotfromonetoomanymartinis.Themusic,strobelights,andfogmachinedidn’thelp,notthattheplumesofcigarettesmoke,thesteaminggarbage,andahintofsewageoutsidearemuchofanimprovement.
Inmytipsystate,Ihavethisnaggingurgetoshowsomeonethevideo.AndtheonlyotherpersonwhowillfullyappreciateitseccentricityisScott.We’vebeentextingbackandforthsinceoursorbethangoutlastweek.Ourtextshavebeenconstanttodaywhileatourrespectivegrandparents’bachelorparties.Scotthasapparentlyachieved“bestfriend”statuswithDad.He’sevensentmeselfiesofthetwoofthemgolfingtogethertoproveit.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Wow.Ican’tunseethatvid.Ever.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Right?Itshouldbeillegal.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
It’syourownfault.Ivolunteeredtostepin.Thenyouguyswouldhavehadarealfiremanover5feettall.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
LOL.
Truthfully,thevisionofScottgrindingoverGrandmaFloisprobablymoredisturbingthantheprofessionalstripper.Ishudderatthethought.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Haha,I’mkidding.I’mnotgoodonthepole.Betterinphotos.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Areyouinacalendarornot?
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Damn,youaresothirstytoknow.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
I’mnot.ForgetIasked.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Hint,I’mthemonthofJune.
YourdadisprettydrunkFYI.Hisfaceisveryredlol.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Tellhimtostopdrinking.HegetstheAsianflush!
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
I’lltry.He’sariot.I’mslowlygettinghimtorevealallyourchildhoodsecrets.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Hetoldmeaboutwhenyouranacrossthestagenakedatyourpreschoolgrad.Boldmove.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Stoptalkingaboutme!
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Impossible.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Inmydefense,thatdresswasitchy.Ihaveathingagainstitchyfabric.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Yourdadjustgavemepermissiontodateyou.
Ohandmarryyou,apparently.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
I’msogladmydadissecuringmyfuturebecauseI’mohsoincapable.Passalongmysinceregratitude.
MyphonevibrateswithanincomingFaceTime.FromDad.
Hisrosy,smilingfacepopsuponthescreeninfrontofawood-paneledwallwithadartboard.
Iwaveatthecamera.“Hi,Dad.”
Hegivesmeatoothysmile.“Crystal!”heshoutsovertheloudclassicrockmusicinthebackground.
Scott’sheadsuddenlyappearsintheframebesideDad.“Tellyourdaughterwhatyoujusttoldme.”
Dadlooksdirectlyintothecamera.“Scottyhasmypermissiontoaskforyourhandinmarriage.”
Igiveanexaggeratedraisedbrow.“DoIgetasayinthis?”
Intypicalsocialbutterflyfashion,Dadgetssidetrackedandabruptlydisappearsfromtheframe,abandoninghisphoneinScott’scapablehands.IcanseeDadinthebackground,high-fivingoneofMartin’sfriends.Scottlookslikehe’swalkingawayfromthecrowdtotakerefugeinaquieterareaofthebar.
“Hey,I’dmakeadamnfinehusband.I’mverylowmaintenance,”Scottdeclareswithconfidence.
“Idon’tgetthatimpression.You’requiteneedy…passingoutinclinics,constantlyneedingyouregostrokedandsuch.”
“Minordetails.Ireallyonlyrequiretwothings.Regularsexandfood.”
“That’satallorder,”Itease.
Myskinpricklesatthesightofhisdimples.“Wannagetmarriedifwe’rebothfortyandstillsingle?”heasks.
“What?Likeamarriagepact?”Iclearmythroatatthehorrifying-but-not-so-horrifyingthoughtofgivinghimregularsexandhome-cookedmeals.You’dreallyhavetotwistmyarm…not.
Heshrugscasually,asifhe’smerelyaskedmetoplayonhisrecleaguebaseballteam.“Lotsoffriendshavethem.”
Igivehimaslowheadshake.BeforeIcanrespond,hebeginstosquintatthecamera,hislipscurvingupwardinpureamusement.“Areyouholdingapeniscookie?”
Inearlychokeonatinypiecethataccidentallywentdownthewrongpipe.“Maybe.”
“It’s,uh,veryveiny,”heobserves.“Arethoseblackspeckssupposedtobepubes?”
“Indeed.Andit’sdelectable,I’llhaveyouknow.Ihaveextras.MaybeI’llevenbringyouone.Ifyou’regood.”
Awidesmileovertakeshisentireface.“TherearesomanythingsIcouldsayrightnow.”
“Pleasedon’t.”
Hemakesazippermotionacrosshismouth.Heleansinfarthertowardthecamera.“Whereareyou?”
“Sittingonthecurboutsidethestripclub.”
“Whyaren’tyouinside?Areyouokay?That’snotagreatareaoftown.”Hisvoicedeepenswithconcern.
“Justfeelingalittlespinny.I’mgood.IthinkI’mgonnacallanUberandheadhomeearly.”
“Staythere,okay?I’llcomewaitwithyou.I’mabouttwoblocksawayatthepub.”
Iarchmybrow.“Youseemtobeanexpertonthelocationofthestripclub.Areyouafrequentcustomer?AVIP?”
Hescoffs.“Haha,veryfunny.YoutoldmeyouwereatDiamondsearlier.I’vebeenthereonceformybuddy’sbachelorparty.Thanks,though.”
“Mm-hmm…”MyvoicetrailsoffasIpeeraround,thedistantwailofasirengrowinglouder.There’saseedy-lookingdudeinzebra-printpantsandathickgoldchainloiteringinfrontofthedingyalleywaytomyleft,castinghisshiftyeyeseverywhichway.
“Staywhereyouare.I’llbethereinafewminutes,”Scottordersbeforethecallgoesdead.
???
“MISS,SPARESOMEchange?”araspyvoicesounds.
Myeyessnapopen.DidIjustfallasleep?Andforhowlong?
Bleary-eyed,Iturntospotarail-thinhomelessmanwearingtwojacketsapproachingonmyright.Helooksterriblyhungryandinneedofawarmmeal.“I’llcheck.”Iscrambletosearchtheforgottendepthsofmypurse.Godknowswhatlurksdownthere.IhavenoideaifIevenhaveanychange.Whocarriescashwiththemanymore?
Fingershopelesslytangledinmyheadphonecords,Iuncoveronelone,half-squishedSkittleandatwo-year-oldreceiptfromTraderJoe’s.JustasImanagetolocatearoguedollar,ashadowtowersoverus.
It’samonstrouslytall,muscularfigurewithashyhairwingingoutofablackballcap.ThisguyfillsoutaHenleylikeasexy,rugged,reclusefarmerwhojustsohappenstohavebulgingbicepsfromslingingabaleofhayortwo.Sleevesrolleduptoaccentuatehisforearms,hespendshisdaystamingwildhorsesandaimlesslyridinghistractoroverterrainofvaryingdegreesofdifficulty.Hestubbornlyrefusestosellthelandthat’sbelongedtohisfamilyformillenniatoevilcorporatedevelopersfromthebigbadcity.Myfocussharpensslightlyasthestreetlightcatcheshisgreeneyes.
Iwheeze.It’sScott.Suddenly,IwishI’dwornsomethinglowercutthanmyturtleneckbodysuit.AtleastI’mwearingsemi-flatteringjeansandheels.
Scotthandshimacrisptwenty-dollarbill.“Here,man.”
Themanbowshishead,gratefullyreachingforthebill.“Thankyou.Godbless.”
“Haveagoodnight!”Icallafterhim,nowpracticallyhorizontalonthesidewalk.Itisn’tjustthealcoholthat’sknockedthewindoutofme.It’sScott’sdecency.Hiskindness.Mostpeoplejustdartrightpasthomelesspeoplewithoutasecondglance.HadIbeensoberandinarush,Iprobablywouldhavetoo.
Scottkneelsdown,studyingmyfacewhilestillkeepingawatchfulside-eyeonthemaninthezebra-printpants.“Youshouldn’tbeoutherealonelikethis.”
“Whynot?I’mfineeee.IwasgonnacallanUberorwalkhome.Ionlyliveafewblocksaway,”Islur,unabletorefrainfromstaringathimlikehe’safullbagofSweetChiliHeatDoritos.
“Where’syourmom?OrTara?”
“They’restillinside.Probablygettinglapdances.OneguylookslikeTomBrady.We’reobsesseddddwiththelad.”Forreasonsunknown,I’verandomlydecidedit’sasgoodatimeasanytobustoutaBritishaccent.
“AreyoupretendingtobeBritish?”Hisvoiceshakeswithsuppressedlaughter.
“AGeordie.Youknow,fromthenorth.Mynewclientisfromthere,”Idutifullyexplain.“Shewastalkingaboutherweightinstonetheotherday.Ihadtouseastone-to-poundconverter.Andthenshetalkedabouthowsheusedtohookupwithalotofguysinuniversity.Shecalleditpulling.”
Scott’sfacecontortsinconfusion.“Pulling?”
“Yeah,like,Iusedtopullallthelads.”Igiggle,clappingmyhandovermymouth,fullyawareI’veroyallybutcheredheramazingaccent.
“Wow.Pleasesaythatagain.It’ssuchaturn-on,”heteases.
“I’mfeelinglikearealradgie,”Imimicher,containingmylaughter
Hehalf-smiles.“Alright,CrystalfromNorthernEngland.Ithinkit’stimeformetotakeyouhome.”
“Isthatapromise?”Iask,brutallyfailingtomakemyvoicelowandsexy.ItsoundslikeIhavelaryngitisandpossiblyswallowedacouplehairballs.MaybeIammorethantipsy.
“YouknowwhatImean.”Herollshiseyesandgrabsmyhands.Hisforearmsflexashepullsmeup.“CanyouwalkordoyouwantmetogetyouanUber?”
“Pffttt.OfcourseIcanwalk.”It’sahalf-truth.Icanwalk.Justnotinacompletelystraightline.Butwhoneedstowalkinastraightline?
Hewrapshisbigarmsaroundmywaistandguidesmedownthesidewalk,preventingmefrompirouettingintooncomingtraffic.Itrymybesttoremainasdiscreetaspossiblewhilesniffinghim,marinatinginhisintoxicatinggreen-bar-soapscent.Iwanttoaskhimhowhemaintainshisfreshlyshoweredaromaafterafulldayofgolf.Isitwitchcraft?Blessedgenetics?
“Alright.You’renotmakingitonfoot.”Hewhipsouthisphoneandclicksaround.“Yourchariotwillbehereinfiveminutes.What’sTara’snumber?I’mtextinghertotellheryou’regoinghome.”
Ishrug,pausingtoleanagainstaspiderweb-ladenlamppost.Whoknowspeople’sphonenumbersanymore?“There’sathree…andafour.Maybeaseven.”
Hesighs,extendinghishand.“Givemeyourphone.”
Imanagetolocateitinmypursewithoutstruggle.“Here.ButyoubetternotgoonmyTinderagain.”
Heraisesabrowashepullsupmytexts.“StillTindering,huh?”
“Nah.Haven’tbeendoingthatlately.It’stoosad.”
Helooksupfrommyphone.“Toosad?”
Itossmyhandsintheair,momentarilydistractedbyajeepwhizzingbyblastingmusic.“Idon’twanttodorandomhookupsanymore.”
Henods,hurriedlycompletingthetext.Heleansintodropmyphonebackinmybag.“Lookingforsomethingmoreserious?”
Itakemyshoeofftomassagetheblisterformingonthesideofmyfoot,stillusingthelamppostforsupport.“Iguessso.Idon’treallyknowwhatI’mlookingfor,tobehonest.Mylastrelationshipendedbadly.Makesmescaredtodateanyoneatall.”
“Ah,right.Trustissues.”Heholdsmecaptivewithhismesmerizingstare,hisgorgeouseyesglowingunderthestreetlight.They’resovibrant,youcouldseethemfromspace.“Isthatwhyyouwon’tgoonadatewithme?”
Ishovemyfootintomyshoeagain,takenaback.I’mgoingtoneedbothfeetplantedonthegroundforthis.Sinceourargumentintheclinicparkinglot,hehasn’tseriouslybroughtupdatingagain.Despiteourflirting,Iassumedthetopicwasoffthetable.“Ididn’tknowyouwerestillinterested.”
Heletsoutasoftlaughashedragshishandthroughhishair,anactthatneverfailstodisarmme.“Seriously?Ionlytextyouamilliontimesaday.”Hepauses.“I’minterested,Crys.Butyoumadeitclearyoujustwantedtobefriends,soIhaven’tbroughtitup.”
“Asidefromtryingtoluremeintoamarriagepact,”Iremindhim.
“Believeme,I’dratherdateyoulongbeforeI’mforty.ButI’lltakewhatIcanget.”
Goosebumpseruptonmyarmsashecomesintosharpfocus.Istareathimforafewmoments,imaginingwhatitwouldbeliketogoonadatewithScottRitchie.Mystomachfluttersatthemerethought,untilit’swashedawaywithatwisttothechestIcall“reality.”Ican’trepeatthemistakesofthepast.“Ican’t,Scotty.Anditisn’tbecauseI’mnotinterested.”
Hedeflatesalittle.“Thenwhatisit?”
Idragmypalmsdownmycheeks.Ihavenoideahowhe’sgoingtotakethis.“Lotsofreasons.Mainlybecauseourfamiliesarejoining.Andyoujustgotoutofarelationship.”
Hismouthopensslightlyashestudiesmeforafewbreaths.Hisbrowsrelaxwithwhatlookslikeablendofconfusionandrelief.“Really?That’swhy?”
“Ilikeyou.Ireallydo.ButIdon’twanttobeyourreboundwhileyoupineoveryourex.Iwasareboundwithmylastex,Neil,andthenhewentbacktothegirlhedatedbeforeme.”
Hisforeheadcreases.“DianaandIdidn’tgetalongthemajorityofourrelationship.Weshouldhavebeenovermonthsbeforeweactuallyendedthings.Trustme,Iwon’tbegoingbacktoher.”
“It’snotthatIdon’twantto…Ijustdon’twanttogethurtagain.MaybeI’dchanceitifyouwerejustarandomguyImetatthegym,butourgrandparentsaregettingmarried.Idon’twantthingstobeweirdifitdoesn’tworkout.”Iturnmyeyesaway,tryingtofindaspotonthepavementtostareat,buteverythingisstillspinning.Scottsensesmylossofbalanceandwrapsonearmaroundmywaist,stabilizingme.
IdesperatelywanttobelievehimwhenhesaysthingsareoverforgoodwithDiana.ButthenIrememberhowNeilusedtosayhow“done”hewaswithCammie.He’dgoonandonabouthowgladhewastoberidofher,andhowshenevercrossedhismind.Lookingback,it’sclearhewascompensatingforthefactthathedidthinkabouther,probablyallthetimewhilehewaswithme.
Idon’tquestionthatScottisgenuine.He’spracticallyburstingattheseamswithgoodintentions.Butfeelingsarecomplicated.It’sonlybeenafewweekssincetheybrokeup.Hecouldbemoreheartbrokenthanhe’slettingon,orthanheevenrealizes.HeneedstimetoworkouthisunderlyingfeelingsbeforeIendupsufferingtheconsequences.
Scottsqueezesmyshouldersaffectionately,hisfingersgentlystrokinginacircularmotion.“Whyareyousosureitwon’tworkout?”
“Becauseitneverhasbefore,forme.Especiallynotwithguyswho’vejustgottenoutofrelationships.”
“Okay.Igetit.ButcanIjustask,howlong’tilit’snolongerarebound?”
Iglanceatthemidnightskyforanswers,butenduptopplingtotheside,straightintoScott’schest.Hisgriptightens.“Idon’tknow?Atleastthreemonths.”Ihaven’tthefaintestcluewherethreemonthscamefrom.Ithasnohistoricrelevanceinthedeeprecessesofmymind.It’scompletelyarbitrary.
Henodsinconsideration.“ThreemonthsfromthedateIbrokeupwithDiana,huh?ThattakesustoexactlyAugustsixth.Thedayofourgrandparents’wedding.Willyouatleastconsideradatethen?Wecouldtakeitreallyslow.Tobereallysure.”
IlightuplikeaChristmastree.HeatcoursesthroughmybodyasIfighttosuppressmytoothysmile.Itgivesmehopethathe’sserious.Seriousenoughtowaitforme.“You’dreallywaitthatlong?”Iask.“Imean,Iwouldn’tblameyouifyougotboredandstuckyourfingersinafewmorepies.”
Hedoesn’tlaughatmyshittyjoke.Infact,hisexpressionissopureandearnestI’mreducedtoaquiveringspecimeninthemiddleofthesidewalk.“Crystal,Iwon’t.”Hepausesanddigshisphoneoutofhispocket.“I’msettingthedateinmycalendar.Augustsixth.Getreadyforit.”chaptersixteen
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
There’ssomethingwrongwithmyphone.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
??
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Itdoesn’thaveyournumberinit.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
*GIFofMichaelScott’sunimpressedface*
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Seriouslythough,whenareyougoingtoletmeoutofDMpurgatoryandgivemeyouractualnumber?OrdoIhavetowaituntilAugustsixthforthattoo?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Maybe.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Ibetyoutextmeandhangoutwithmemorethananyoneelse.
Heisn’twrong.Intheweekssincethebacheloretteparty,we’vetextedconstantly,mostlycommunicatinginrandomGIFs.He’salwaysdowntorunerrandswithmeafterourincreasinglyregulargymsessions,likegoingtothepharmacytopickuptampons.HewaseventhoughtfulenoughtobuymeapackageofclearanceMiniEggswhenIwasPMSing.
Therewasalsothetimehehelpedmewithamassivegroceryrunformysummermealprep.Hecarriedmyfourhundreddollars’worthoffoodallthewayupthestairstomyapartmentinonetrip,becausemorethanonetripisallegedlysacrilegious.Onceinsidemyapartment,heproactivelychangedmyfirealarm,whichhadbeenmalfunctioningsinceImovedin(whichhewasquitedisturbedtohear).
He’sstillflirtingwithme,hard.AndI’mflirtingback,despiteplayinghardtogetinthenameoftakingthingsslow.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
You’llgetmyphonenumberinduetime.
Areyoumessagingmefromwork?
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Suream.Justgotbackfromamedicalcall.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Aren’tyousupposedtobefightingfires?Savinglives?DoingCPR?
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
AreyoupersonallyrequestingCPR?
Yes,yesIam.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
*GIFofJudgeJudygivingaslow,condescendingheadshake*
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Whatareyouuptotonight?
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Workingonsomecontentformypostsfornextweek.You?
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
IwasgonnaseeifIcouldenlistyourhelponatopsecret,high-prioritymission.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Doesitrequireleavingmyapartment?
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
…Yes.You’dhavetoputonyour“goingout”Lulus.
I’vejustsettledontothecouchwithTara,whereIdamnwellplannedtoremainfortheentiretyoftheevening,beingamiserablecurmudgeon.ButtheglimmeringprospectofhangingoutwithScottisimpossibletoignore.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
??
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Ineedtoknowyou’recommittedtothemissionbeforeIgiveyouadetailedbriefing.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Ugh,fine.I’mcommitted.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Ineedanewdresser.FromIKEA.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Andyouneedmyhelpconstructingit?Lol.
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
Haha,no,Igotthatpartcovered.ButmymomsaysIhavenostyle.Wouldbenicetohavesomeonesteermeintherightdirection.
I’vebeentohisapartmentoncetopickupafoamrollerhegenerouslyofferedtolendme.Hisplacefittheblueprintfortwoyoung,unattachedmenwhohavezerosenseofstyle.Barren.Plain.Minimalist.I’vebeentemptedtobringaplantorafewthrowpillowstoliventhespace,butaccordingtoMel,that’swhatagirlfriendwoulddo.AndIamdefinitelynotagirlfriend.
CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL
Idolikehomedécor…
RITCHIE_SCOTTY7
KI’llpickyouupat6:30afterwork.
???
YOUCANLEARNalotaboutapersonbygoingthroughtheentiretyofIKEAwiththem.It’satruetestofone’spatience,spatialawareness,levelofmaturity,andself-discipline.Particularlyinthefinalsection,wheretheysorudelytemptyouwithcinnamonrollsandDaimchocolatecaramelcandies.Whyareyoutryingtobreakme,IKEA?
Asitturnsout,Scotthasthepatienceofasaint.We’retrappedbehindafamilywiththreerambunctiouschildren,allunderapproximatelysevenyearsold.They’rescreechingbecausetheirparentsshunnedtheirdemandsforsoft-serveicecreamcones.Iwince,diggingmyfingernailsintomypalmsastheyoungestoneletsoutanearsplittinghowl,allwhileScottwhistlescheerfullybesideme,asifwe’retakingaleisurelystrollthroughalush,tranquilmeadowonabreezy,sunnyday.Hisstrideisconfident,unhurried,andsoentirelysexy,IcouldwatchhoursofCCTVfootageofhimdoingnothingbutwalking.
Healsoappearstohaveanexcellentsenseofdirection.He’swhizzingthroughtheshowroomlikeatotalpro,undeterredbydistractions.ThelasttimeIwashere,onasolomissionforamerepictureframe,Iendeduphopelesslydisoriented,despitethelargearrowsonthefloor.Thenagain,Scottisacareerfireman.Iassumespatialorientationwhilerunningintounfamiliarburningbuildingsisaprerequisiteforthejob.
Despitethis,Scottisimmatureinthemattresssection.AndsoamI.Onebyone,wetestthem,assessingthelevelofbounce,support,andoverallplushness.
“Ineedthisbed,”hesays,eyesclosed,asweliesidebysideonamarshmallow-likequeen-sizemattress.
WhenIturntowardhim,themattressdipsmorethanexpected,causingmetoinadvertentlyrollintohisshoulder.Mystomachfluttersatthemerewarmthofhisbody.Hello,bliss.
Hegivesmeaflirtyside-eye.“Tryingtocuddlewithme?”
“No.”Iabruptlyrollawaytoputtheappropriateamountofspacebetweenusagain.Iovercompensateandnearlytumbleoffthemattressentirely.Talkaboutbeingontheedgeofglory.
“Ithinkyouwere.”
“IthinkyoujustwishIwere.”Truthfully,hischestlookscozyandinviting.AllIwanttodoisnuzzleintohisneck.ButImanagetopullmyselfbacktorealityandmaintainmyrestraint,despitehowbarren,cold,andlonelyitisinmyownpersonalspacebubble.
“IneverknewIKEAwassuchagoodtime,”hesays,changingthesubject.
Igivehimawarninglook.“It’sallfunandgamesuntilyouhitthewarehouse.Thenit’sall-outanarchy.”
Helaughsandsitsupright,holdinghishandoutforme.“Alright,let’sgopickadresser.”Withoutthinking,Itakehishand.Butthemomentourfingerstouch,ajoltofelectricitysendsashockwaverollingdownmyspine.
Handlockedfirmlyaroundmine,hecarriesondowntheaisle,perma-smiling.
IsighasIfollowhimthroughtheaisle,unabletostopconcentratingonthepadofhisfingercirclingaroundthesoftpartofmyhandbelowmythumb.Igloriouslyfailtofendoffsemi-sexualorromanticthoughts.Idoaquickscanforsomething,literallyanything,toliftmymindoutofthegutter.Myeyecatchesabeautifullivingroomdisplay.
“DidyouknowI’mkindofobsessedwithhousesanddécor?”Iask.
Heeyesmewithinterest.“Ifiguredasmuch,basedonyourfurniture.You’repracticallyanantiquehunter.”
“WhenIwaslittle,IusedtogetmydadtodrivemearoundtheneighborhoodatnightsoIcouldseeintootherpeople’shouses.”
Scotthaltsinthemiddleoftheaisle,tothehorroroftheelderlymanbehindus.Imakeroomforthemantosteparoundus,accidentallybackingintoScott’schest.Iletgoofhishandandspinaround.
Scottsmiles,settlinghishandsoneithersideofmywaist,asiftheybelongthere.“You’retellingmeyouusedtopeepintopeople’shousesatnight?Andyourdadaidedandabetted?”
Forabriefmoment,Igawkupathim,takinginthefullextentofhisheighttoweringovermebeforebackingaway.Cheekspink,hestudiesmyface,asmileplayingacrosshislips.
Inod,asifitisn’tabigdeal.“Prettymuch.HemostlyuseditasanopportunitytoblasthisShaniaTwainCD.She’shisforevergirlcrush.”
Hethrowshisheadback,clutchinghischestwithbooming,uninhibitedlaughter.“Didn’texpectWilltobeacountryfan.Andyou’rebasicallyonestepbelowserialkillerstatus.”Hepausesasweturntowardthedressersection.“Didyouhavebinocularstoo?”
Iplayfullywhackhimonthebicep.
“NowIknowtoclosemyblinds.”
Ifighttheurgetolaughwhilemaintainingaseriousexpression.“Idon’tdoittocreeponpeople,obviously.Ijustlikelookingatotherpeople’sdécor,thelayoutsofhouses.”
“You’dgetalongwithmymom,then.ShewatchesHGTVconstantly.She’sinlovewiththePropertyBrothers,”hesaysasweapproachthedressersection.
Aftergentleprodding,Ipersuadehimtoselectthesix-drawerHEMNESchestinadarkgraystain(amplespaceforallhislacydelicates,Iargue).Wethenmanagetolocatethecorrectmodelnumberinthewarehousewithrelativeease.Basedonhowmuchfunhe’shavingwheelingaroundonthoseflatcarts,Iconcludethewarehouseishisfavoritepartoftheentirestore.
“Geton,”heorders,noddingtowardthecartwithacompletelystraightface
Ilevelhimwithmysternestauthoritarianglare.“No.Let’sjustgocheckout.”
Hepersists.“Getonthecart.”
Isigh,relenting.MyfeetcoulduseabreakaftergoingthroughthismazeofadepartmentstoreinthehideousleopardballetflatsthatweretwofortendollarsatTarget.Lifelesson:youcan’tcountonfive-dollarflatsforproperarchsupport.
Isettleontothecart,mybacktohim.Hisfaceissoclosebehindme,hisalluringaftershavefillsmynostrils,sendingabuzzofelectricitytomytoes.Idesperatelywanttoleanbackintohim.IsthiswhatdatingScottcouldbelike?Laughinganddoingdumbshittogetherwhiledoingthemostmundaneoferrands?
I’mpracticallydoubledoverwithlaughterasweflydownthewideaisles,oneafteranother,onlyverynarrowlydodginginnocentbystanders.
Aswewhizbyabookshelfdisplay,afrazzled,gray-hairedIKEAemployeegaspsinhorror.“Ma’am,it’sagainststorepolicytositonthecartsunlessyou’reundertenyearsold.”AsScottabruptlystopsthecart,shepracticallyfireslasersatmewithherhawkisheyeslikeI’mashamefulcriminal.
“Sorry,”Imurmur,promptlysteppingbackontothefloor.
ScottandIstifleouramusementbeforehespeedsdownanotheraisleaheadofme,nearlyrammingthecartintoacoupleloadingalong,skinnybox.
BythetimeIcatchuptohim,he’sprofuselyapologizingtoablondwomanwiththickbangs.Shestaresathim,doll-likeblueeyeswide,lipspulledback,miffed,asifhe’dnearlycrushedthemflat.
IpalmScott’sshoulderasIinchforward.“Iamsosorryforhim.Ilefthimunsupervisedforonesecond.Ireallyneedtogethimaleash—”
Whenthemanwhipshisheadaround,theairexpelsfrommylungs.Theoverlytousledhair.Thepiercingice-blueeyes.Neil.
Neilripshimselffromtheembraceofthewoman,whomInowrecognizeasCammie.Shelooksdifferentwithhernew,thickbangs.Neiltakesastepbackward,nearlytrippingonthefrontbedofScott’scartasheswivelstofaceme,mouthopen.“Crystal.”
Cammie’seyesnarrow,examiningme.IhavenoideaifsheknowswhoIam.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifhenevertoldheraboutmyexistenceatall.
“Neil…Hi,”Imanage.Barely.Bloodrushestomyears.Thedistantchatteraroundusechoes,asifwe’reinafishbowl.
Scottflashesmeaworriedglanceandbacksuphiscart.He’sstandingnexttomenow,shoulderspulledback,armgrazingmine.Histouchgroundsme,preventingmefrombeingsuckedintoNeil’stwister.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Neilasks,voiceoctaveshigherthannormal.He’sdoingapiss-poorjobatmaskinghisshock.Asinglebeadofsweattricklesdownhisforehead,illuminatedbythewarehouselighting.Ithinkhe’sabouttowethimselfatthesightofCammieandmeinthesameplace,andquitefrankly,soamI.
“I,uh…”
“We’repickingupadresser,”Scottcutsin.Thewayhesayswe’reisn’tlostonme.It’sdaring,butI’mthankful.
Seeingthetwoofthemface-to-faceisinteresting.Neilisn’taweakling.ButScottstilltowersoverhimbyaboutfiveinchesandfortypoundsofmuscle.
“We’regettingnewlivingroomfurniture,forournewplace,”Neilinformsus,glancingnervouslyatme.
“Newlivingroomfurniture?”Iregistertheircartstackedwithboxes.
Cammiedipsherchininanod,maintainingherdoe-eyed,innocentvibe.
“Wejustmovedintogether,”Neiladmits.Itstrikesmeasoddyetunsurprisingthatthey’dbemovingintogetherafewweeksafterhetextedme,likelytocomplainabouther.
“Really?Ustoo.”Scott’stoneisoverlyjovial.Icantellhe’sbeingfake,butonlybecauseIknowhimsowell.Hemustsensemyunease,becausehethrowshisarmovermyshoulder,pullingmesnugintohisside.Warmthflowsthroughmeinstantly,renderingmeimpenetrable.WithScottbymyside,Neilcouldn’tdoanythingtoknockmeoffcourseifhetried.
“Oh.”There’saflickerofrighteousannoyanceinNeil’seyesbeforehepouts,evidentlydispleasedhissecondchoiceisnolongeravailable.“Ididn’tknowyouweredatinganyonenew.”
I’mtemptedtoofferacuttingremark,likeSincereapologiesforforgettingtomentionitthelastthreetimesyoutextedme,butIhavezerodesiretobepetty.SoIsettleonacasualshrug,asifit’snobigdeal.
Scottclearshisthroattofilltheawkwardtensionashetightenshisgriparoundmyshoulder.“Well,babe,webettergetgoing.”
“Yeah,weshould.”Idon’tevenbothertosaygoodbyetoNeilandhisnewlive-ingirlfriend.Iwalkuntilthey’rebothoutofsight.Acoupleaislesdown,Istop,waitingforScotttocatchupwiththecart.
Whenwe’reoutofearshotandheadingtowardthemonstrouslineupsatthecheckout,Scottspeaks.“Crys,I’mreallysorryifIoverstepped,I—”
Iturntohim,myfingersgrazinghisforearm.Whenhismuscletensesbeneathmygrip,Idropmyhandbacktomyside.“No,youdidn’toverstep.Thankyou.Seriously.”
“Itakeitthatwastheex?”
Inod,mindlesslyrunningmyfingersovertherandomkitchenaccessoriesinthecheckoutaisle.“Yeah.”
“Nooffense,buthe’saprick.YouhavenoideahowmuchIwantedtodeckhimintheface.”Scottkeepshisstonystareonthelineinfrontofus.
Hisprotectivenessfillsmewithcomfort.Iinchclosertohim,ourshoulderstouching.“Hedoeshaveaverypunchableface.Butwhatmadeyouwanttodeckhim?”
“Becausehe’sthereasonIhavetowaitmonthstodateyou.AndIhatethewayhelookedatyou.”
“Howdidhelookatme?”
“Likeheownedyouorsomething.Likeyouwereatoysomeoneelsewasplayingwith.”Hestepscloser.Soclose,hisbreathgrazesmyhair.“You’reworthsomuchmorethanthat,Crystal.”Somehow,he’smanagedtopinpointmyexactfeelingswhenI’mnearNeil.Worthless.It’snotlikehe’smaliciouslytryingtomakemefeelthatway,butafterbeinghissecondchoiceforsolong,I’vealmostgottenusedtoit.
Ibowmyhead.“Thankyou.Itwasreallyweirdseeinghimwithher…she’stheoneheleftmefor.Thewomanhedatedbeforeme.”
Scott’sjawtenses.“That’sreallyshitty.Iknowthatmustbehardonyou.”
“Yeah.ThoughIshouldhaveexpectedit.Evenwhileweweretogether,Ialwaysfeltlikehewasn’tfullyoverher.He’dalwaysfindweirdwaystobringherup.Onetime,literallyfifteenminutesafterweslepttogether,IcaughthimcreepingonherInsta.”
Hecringes.“Ouch…”
“Theworstpartis,I’mnotanaiveperson.Atleast,Ididn’tthinkIwas.Andyet,Ibelievedeverythinghetoldmeforsolong.Itreallymessedwithme.”
“Icompletelygetit.It’shardwhensomeoneturnsouttobeexactlywhoyouhopedtheyweren’t.”
“Haveyoueverhadabadrelationship?”Iask,growingacutelyawarethatthisconversationprobablyisn’tthemostsuitableforanIKEAcheckoutline.Butthenagain,noonearoundusseemstobepayinganyattention.Thewomaninfrontofushashernoseburiedinherphone,whilethecouplebehindusarestrangelycaptivatedbyicecubetrays.
Henods,swallowingalumpinhisthroat.“Yeah.Mylastgirlfriend.”
Isuckinabreath.I’veneveraskedhimaboutwhathappenedwithDiana,mostlybecausehe’sneverbroughtherup.“Whathappened?”
“Wemetlastyear.Shewasafigureskater.Thingswerereallygoodinthefirstmonth,untilshegotofferedajobtouringwithDisney.Shewasn’tsureifshewantedtotakeit,sinceourrelationshipwassonew.ButIencouragedher.Didn’twanthertogiveupherdreamforme.Ithoughtlongdistancewouldbeabreeze,butwedidn’ttalkalotwhileshewasgoneontour,especiallynotinthelastfewmonths.Anditdidn’thelpIwasalwaysworkingandpickingupextrashifts.Weendedupfightingallthetimebecauseofthedistance.”Hepauses,grimacing.“Anyway,wefinallybrokeupaftershevisitedfortheweekend.Istupidlyassumedthingswouldgobacktonormalifwesaweachother.Buttheydidn’t.Andsheadmittedshe’dstartedcatchingfeelingsforaguysheskateswith.Cliché,huh?”
Definitelycliché.Ifrown.“I’msorry.Didanythingactuallyhappenbetweenthem?”
Hiseyesshifttohisfeetmomentarily.“Shesaidnothinghappened.ButIdon’tknowifIbelievethat.”
“Doyouthinkit’lltakeyoualongtimetotrustagain?”
“No.”
“Really?Doesn’titstillhurt?Thatshehadfeelingsforsomeoneelse?”
Hiseyeshoverovermine.“Ofcourseitdoes.Butjustbecauseonepersonbrokemytrustdoesn’tmeaneveryoneisgoingto,youknow?”
Westaysilentthedurationofthetripbacktomyapartment.ScottseemstobeinhisfeelingsafterourconversationaboutDiana.I’mriddledwithguiltforruininghischeerymood.
I’malsodisappointedinmyself.SometimeafternearlycuddlingonthemattressandridingtheIKEAcartlikeachild,InearlybrokethepactImadetomyself.Iwastemptedtogivein,kissScott,andletmyselfbehisrebound,andviceversa.
ButafterseeingNeilandCammieshoppingforfurnituretogether,practicallyontheirwaydowntheaisle,I’mremindedofthefactthatIwasnothingtohimbuttemporaryreprievefromthepain.Apalatecleanser.Awaytogetoff.Someonetoreinforcethefactthathestilllovedanotherwoman.
IfIwanttobearolemodeltomyfollowersandpracticewhatIpreachinmySizePositivecampaign,Ineedtoknowmyworth.BeingReboundGirlonceagainissimplynotanoption.chapterseventeen
IDON’TKNOWHOWyouhavesomuchwillpower.I’dhavebrokenthatthree-monthruleandjumpedhisbonesalready.”Melhuffs,outofbreathfromforty-fiveoffiftyballslamsI’vemercilesslyassigned.
“It’sundertwomonthsnow,ifwegobythedateheactuallybrokeupwithhisex,”Iexplain.“Andit’snotahard,setrule.Ijustfigureit’sahealthyamountoftimeinbetweenrelationships.”
InthetwoweekssinceourIKEAhangout,ScottandIhavemetatthegymatleastfourorfivetimesaweek,asidefromthedayshehasdoubleshifts.Sometimeshehelpsfilmmyvideos,orgivesmenewworkoutideastodemoandsharewithmyfollowers.
Hetakesupthemajorityofmyweekendstoo.Wespendhourstogetherwatchingsportsathisplace,walkingaroundBostonCommonandtheharborwithAlbus,spendingtimewithGrandmaFloandMartin,orembarkingonourstrangenewhabitofbrowsinghomedécorstores.
Yesterday,heaccompaniedmetodinneratmyparents’place(Dadsokindlyextendedtheinvite),whereheproceededtomakefriendswithHillary.I’dwarnedhimshe’dprobablypeealloverhim,buthescoopedherintohisbigarmsandletherlickhisentirefacewithherrepellent,lizard-liketongue.Thisactsolidifiedhimas“theperfectman,”accordingtoMom,whoisthenewestpassengerontheScotttrain,alongwiththerestofthefamily,whoforcefullyinsistIdatehimASAP.
“Fifty!”Melslamsthemedicineballtotheflooronelasttimebeforeleaningagainstthewall.
“Goodjob,girl.Yourformwasreallygoodthroughout.”Igiveherahighfiveaswestarttowardthechangingroom
Shegrinswithpridebeforechuggingtheremainderofherwaterbottle.Amonthago,thatcircuitwouldhavebeenfartoodifficult,andtoday,shecrusheditlikeaboss.“Anyway,Igetwhyyou’rebeingcautious,especiallywithyourfamiliesinvolved.”
Iholdthechangingroomdooropenforher.“Mythoughtsexactly.Ikindofrushedintomylastrelationship…ifyoucanevencallitarelationship.It’snicetotakethingsslow.”Admittedly,keepingmyfeelingsforScottatbayisincreasinglymoredifficultwitheachinteraction.
Melgivesmeaseriousexpressionassheslipspastmetowardabench.“Speakingofwhich,youbetternotbeaflakytwatattheendofallthisandtakeitback.Youneedtodatetheshitoutofhim.HehasseriousBDE.Youcan’tletthatslipbetweenyourfingers.”
“BDE?”
“Bigdickenergy,”sheexplains,totheshockandhorrorofagray-hairedladywithapermgenerouslyapplyinghergeldeodorantonthebenchnexttous.
“Howcanyougaugesomeone’sBDE?”Iask,loweringmyvoicetoawhisper.
“It’sallinthegait.Inthewayhewalks.Supercocky,likehecouldhandlehimselfonthestreetsoramongyourdudefriendsatabarbeque.He’dbesweettoyourmomandthenravishtheshitoutofyouinthebedroom.”Shepauses,stillnotbotheringtolowerhervoiceasshestraddlesthebench.“Like,taketheguyfromTwilight,forexample.”
“RobertPattinson?”
“Themanhasnogait.Notanounceofswagger,whichissurprisingconsideringhehasthewholetorturednovelistwhohaslockedhimselfinadesolatecabintoovercomehiswriter’sblocklookgoingon.”
IusedtofeelsometypeofwayaboutRobertPattinson.Thenagain,Iwasfifteenyearsoldandstillsleepingwithastuffedanimal.“Ikindofseewhatyoumean.Healwayslookslikehe’sonthecuspofemotionalruin.”Ifighttosuppressmyguffawasthepermedladystormsoff,awayfromourinappropriatediscussion.
Melopensherlocker,chuckling.“Bytheway,didItellyouBerryCloth&Co.reachedouttomeforacollab?They’resendingmesomepiecesfortheirfallExtendedCollection.”
Ifluttermyhands,bothshockedandelated.“Shutup.Really?”
“Yeah.I’vebeentryingtogetthemtonoticemeforforever.Finallytheydid.”
“I’msopumpedforyou.Theyhavereallynicestuff.Thoughtheirlargersizesarealwaysmoreexpensive.Whichistheworst,”Isay,shouldersslumping.
Shescowls.“TheFatTax.Iknow.It’swrong.IactuallybroughtthatupwhenIspoketothemarketinggirl,andshefullyagreed.”
“Therearehardlyanybrandsoutthereforcurvypeoplethatdon’tcostafortune.”
Shenodsinthoughtbeforepursingherlips.“That’sexactlywhyIstartedmyInstagramaccount.Hey,wouldyouwanttodoaguestvideoshowcasingyourcloset?Maybesomeofyourworkoutclothes?”
Iregistermycurrentgetupwithrevulsion—abaggyrippedBruinsT-shirtwithholesinquestionableplaces,myawfulnon-Alignleggingsthatdoabsolutelynothingformyass,andmattedhairinamessybun.“Idoubtmomoftwo-year-oldquintupletsistheaestheticyouwanttopromote.”
Melrollshereyes.“I’veseenyourcloset.Youhavethecutestclothes.Youdon’twearthem,forwhateverreason.”
Isigh,mentallyrecallingalltheforgottenoutfitsthathaven’tseenthelightofdaysincetheturmoilwithNeil.“I-Idon’tknow.”
Shegivesmeasympatheticnod.“Okay,well,Idon’twanttopressureyou.Ijustthoughtitcouldbenicetoswitchitup.Doacollabortwo.”
Theguiltsetsinimmediately.Melhaspromotedthecrapoutofmyplatform,eventhoughshe’spayingformyservices.Becauseofher,I’vegainedmultiplenewclientsandhundredsoffollowers.TheleastIcandoisscratchherbacktoo.“Okay.I’lldoit.Ihavesomepiecesthatcouldwork.”
Shelightsup.“It’sgoingtobegreat.Ipromise.”
TRANSCRIPTOFMELANIE_INTHECITY’SSPECIALGUESTVIDEOFEATURINGCRYSTALCHEN(CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL):
MEL:Higuys!Melanie_inthecityherewithaveryspecialguest,CrystalChen,arolemodelinthebodypositivitymovement.Ifyou’reintofitness,youprobablyalreadyfollowheraccount,CurvyFitnessCrystal.
CRYSTAL:[Jazz-handswave]Heyeveryone!Thankssomuchforhavingme,Mel.
MEL:Ofcourse.I’vepostedaboutitonmychannelbefore,butincasesomeofyouarenew,CrystalandImetbecauseIbookedherasmytrainerlastmonth.[TurnstoCrystal]YoutakepleasureinmakingmeworkoutuntilInearlypuke,don’tyou?
CRYSTAL:Hey,I’mjusttryingtogetresults.Andyou’redoingamazing,bytheway.[Looksatcamera]Shestartedoffnotbeingabletodoonepush-up.Nowshecandotwenty.
MEL:[Scoffs]Barely.Butanyway,Iloveyourstyle.[CamerapanstoarackofCrystal’sfavoriteoutfits]Iseealotofcomfortable,yetsuper-chicoutfits.Lotsofjerseydresses,denimjackets,andveryneutraltones.
CRYSTAL:Yeah.Imean,I’malsonotasizetwo.Girlslikeuscan’tjustwalkintoanystoreandpullwhateverwewantofftherack.Anyonewhoisn’tstraight-sizedknowsthattailoringisyourfriend.Butitcangetexpensive.That’swhyIlovefabricsthatareversatile.
MEL:Canyoutellmehowyouchoosepieces?
CRYSTAL:Backincollege,IusedtobuytonsofclothesfromForever21andthosetypesofstores.They’regreatprices,butIfoundtheyweren’tasdurable.
MEL:Right.It’shardtofindhigh-qualityclothingthat’saffordable.
CRYSTAL:So,lately,I’vebeentryingtobuyless,buthigherquality.[Thumbsthroughclothingrack]Ihaveacoupleneutralstaples,likethispencilskirt,orthisgraydress,aplainwhiteT,blackjeggings,allthingsthatcanbematchedwithanything.
MEL:Itotallyagree.Havingyourstaplepiecesissoimportant.I’mabigfanofasimpleblackdress.
CRYSTAL:Yeah,forsure.Imean,myjobisfitness,sotruthfully,IspendalotoftimeinmyLulus.Butwithsummercoming,Iwanttostartwearingmorelightdresses.
MEL:Doyouhaveanyadviceforfellowcurvywomen?
CRYSTAL:Idon’teverwanttospeakforallcurvywomen.I’mjustspeakingfrommyownexperiences.Butsocietytellsuswecan’twearcertainthings.Somanybrandsdon’tactuallycarrysizeslargerthanten.Andiftheydo,they’remoreexpensive.Buttherearesomeamazingbrandsoutthere.Icanlinkthembelowinthecomments.Butreallyit’saboutfindingyourownpersonalstyle.Aswithfitness,youhavetofigureoutwhatworksforyouandyourbody.Asimportantasconfidenceandembracingyourbodyare,youhavetobecomfortablewithwhatyou’rewearingtofeelconfident.
MEL:Ithinkthat’sgreatadvice.Itgoesforallwomen,regardlessofsize.
CRYSTAL:Forsure.
MEL:Let’scheckoutyourcloset.
[MinimontageofCrystalmodelingvariousoutfits]
MEL:Well,thankyousomuchforapeekintoyourcloset.Itwasgreathavingyou![Turnstofacecamera]Thanksforwatching,guys.MakesuretofollowCrystalforamazingadviceonhowtoembraceyourbodyandliveyourbesthealthylife!
Commentby_RobinAnne_Mc:Youguysareadorable!LoveCrystal.Morevidstogetherplease.
CommentbyDanthegamer_384:Melanieisfakeaf.Goblowupyourlipsmore.
ReplybyCurvyFitnessCrystal:@Danthegamer_384Doyouhavenothingbettertodothanmakerudecommentsonotherpeople’sappearance?
CommentbyCourtneyG-1324:ydowefeeltheneedtoconstantlygivefatpeoplereassurancethattheylookgoodinclothesthatdon’tfitthemproperly
ReplybyAquariusgirly:@CourtneyG-1324peoplelikeuarethereason.CrystalandMelulookamazing!!
ReplybyCurvyFitnessCrystal:Thankyou@Aquariusgirlychaptereighteen
THEDUMBBELLHITStherubbermatatmyfeetwithalouder-than-intendedthud.Patty,thechroniccomplainer,claspsherchestasifI’vestolenhervirtue.She’sperchedonthebenchnearbylikeaqueen,dabbingherperfectlydryforeheadwitharoyal-bluegymtowel.
Scotttreatsmetoadiscreeteyeroll,gentlyplacinghisowndumbbellsnexttomine.We’recoolingdownwithafewstrength-trainingsetsafteradeadlyGirlPowerAnthem–themedspinclass.Unsurprisingly,Scottwastheonlydudeintheclass.Iassumedhe’dbetoomachoforit,butwithmuchpleasure,hebaskedinthenot-so-subtleattentionfromladies.
“Youokay?”heasks.“You’redoingthatthingwithyourjaw.Thethingyoudowhenyou’repissed.”
Imakeapointtosoftenmyfrostyexpression,whilerefrainingfromgrindingmyteethtostubs.“Yeah.Peoplearedicks.”
“What’sgoingon?”Hesitsonthematandpatsthespacebesidehim.
Isitnexttohim,blowingastrayhairoutofmyface.“IdidaguestvideoonMel’sInstagramLivefeedyesterday.Someofthecommentsgotabitoutofhand.”
“Whatdoyoumeanbyoutofhand?”
Ipullupthesavedvideo.OurfingersbrusheversoslightlyasIhandmyphoneover,sendingatinysparkofelectricitysizzlingthroughme.
Scottdoom-scrollsforacoupleseconds,shakinghisheadbeforetossingthephonebackintomylap.HestaresintothevoidforhalftheExcaliburFitnessadbeforemeetingmygaze.Hisexpressionisn’toneofpity.It’ssoftandsincere,asthoughhereallycares.“Crystal,I’msosorryyouhavetodealwiththis.Youknowthesepeople—”
Iraisemyhandtostophim.“Iknow.It’sbeenthiswayeversinceIstartedmyaccount.Honestly,it’sfine.”Ipause,realizinghowthatsounded.“Imean,it’snotfine,obviously.ButI’velearnedtodealwithit.Idon’tcarewhatassholestrangersfromthebowelsoftheinternethavetosayaboutmybody.”
Heholdseyecontact.“Iknow.Andit’samazing.Butisn’tthereawaytoblockthem?”
Ishrug,momentarilyadmiringthefemalebodybuilder’simpeccablebicepsasshepassesbehindScott.“Notreally.Iusedtotry,butit’simpossibletoblocksomanyaccounts.Honestly,I’mmoreconcernedformyfollowersthanmyself.”Andit’sthetruth.IknowwhatIcanhandle.ButIliveinconstantfearofmyfollowersreadingthosehatefulcomments.
Aveinflexesinhisforearmashereachestotouchhistoes.“Iknow.Youworryabouteveryone.Iknowyou’restrong,butIguessIjust…Ican’thelpbutworryaboutyoutoo.Iknowyousaythecommentsdon’tbotheryou,buttheymustgettoyousometimes,don’tthey?”
Mylipspresstogether,asifblockingthewordsthataresodesperatetoescape.AdmittingthatfactmeansI’mnotlivinguptomybody-positivemessage,andthat’satoughpilltoswallow.“Sometimes,yeah.”Theadmissionfeelslikeaforty-five-poundplatehasbeenliftedfrommychest.
“DidIevertellyouaboutthatassholekidinmiddleschool?”
“No.”
Scottgivesthedumbbellasmall,mindlesspushtotheside.“Istartedatanewschoolhalfwaythroughsixthgrade.IwaslateonthefirstdaybecausemysisterKathadameltdownbeforeweleftthehouse.Anyway,Ishowedupduringgymclass.Theyweredoingbasketballdrills,shootinglayupsandstuff.IwasupagainstthiskidnamedAlex.Hewasmassiveforatwelve-year-old.Wasbasicallythesizeofateenager.”Scott’seyesgrowdarkerashecontinues.“Iscoredbeforehedidandhegotpissed.Tossedthebasketballatmyfaceandbrokemynose.”
“Jesus.Whatapsychopath.”
“Ohyeah.Hebulliedtheshitoutofmeafterthat.”
Ihangmyhead.“I’msosorry.Whydidhepickonyou?”
“Iwasthenewkid,Iguess?Scrawny.Aneasytarget.Heterrorizedmeeveryrecess.Heldmedownandmademeeatsand.Basicallyusedmeasapunchingbag.”Scott’seasysmileisreplacedwithaseverescowlashefocusesonarippedspotonthemat.
Irecalloursorbetdate,whenIdiscoveredhewasn’talwaysthepictureofconfidence.It’sjarringandheartbreakingtoimagineadevastatedandhumiliatedadolescentScott,comparedtothe(overly)confidentmanheistoday.Noonewoulddarechallengehiscocksure,alphapresencenow.WhileI’mamazedatthetransformation,myguttwists.Kidscanbeseriousassholes.
Heliftshisballcapandrakesaroughhandthroughhismane.“Anyway,sorryI’msoworkedupaboutit.IguessIjustknowhowyoufeel—”Hebackpedals,cringing.“Iknowit’snotthesamething…gettingbulliedbyajackasstwelve-year-oldcomparedtowhatyou’regoingthrough—”
“No,Igetit.Iappreciateyousharingthat,”Icutin,takingintheresidualpaininhiseyes.Iplaceagentlehandonhisforearmandhismusclesflexundermytouch.
“Doyoueverfeellikeyou’dbehappierifyou…”Thewordstrailoffwhenherealizestheweightofwhathe’sabouttosay.Helooksaway,asifhe’safraidofmyreaction.
“DoIeverwanttodeletemyaccount?”Ifinishforhim.
Hemeetsmygaze.“I’dneversuggestthat.Iknowhowimportantitistoyou.ButIcan’timaginedealingwiththatdayinanddayout.It’scyberbullying,Crys.”
Isitupstraighter.“I’mfine.”MytoneisharsherthanIintendittobe,whichdoesn’tseemtobotherhim.“AndIfullyunderstandyourconcern.ButI’manadult,notakid.Ihaveoffdays,true.ButIbelieveinmymessage.IfthatmeansIhavetodealwithassholes,I’lltakeitifIcanhelponepersonfeelbetteraboutthemselves.”
HeplaceshishandonmyshoulderandIleanintoit.Again,itdoesn’tfeellikepity.It’ssupport.It’scomfort.“Alright.Well,I’malwayshereforyou.Ifyoueverhaveanoffday.”
Warmthbloomsinmychestathistouch.Foryears,Ihaven’treliedonanyonebutmyselftofeelconfidentandworthy.I’veneverneededashouldertocryonwhenthetrollsunleashtheirfury,andIdon’tintendonchangingthat.Butjustknowinghe’sheretohelplightenwhat’sbeenasoloburdenforsevenyearsmakesallthedifference.
???
I’MCREEPINGOUTSIDEtheBostonFireDepartment,Engine10,Tower3(whateverthatmeans)withastackofglassTupperwareinmyarms.
It’sthelastplaceIthoughtI’dendupafterafruitfulgymsession.Imanagedtoshootafullweek’sworthofvideos.WhenIwokeupthismorning,IhadmorevigorthantheEnergizerBunny,partiallybecauseIsleptforninehours,butmostlybecauseofScott.
Afterourspinsessionyesterday,adeliveryshowedupatmydoor.Itwasabouquetoflushpink,white,andpurpletulips.Thecardread:
Crystal,
You’rebeautiful.
—Scott
Imeltedlikeasnowballinhellafterreadingthatcard.It’sprobablythekindestgestureI’veeverreceived.Themessagewassimple,butthewordswerejustwhatIneededtoheartosnapmeoutofmyspiralofnegativity.ThiswasphysicalproofthatIwastrulyspecialtohim.ThatIreallymattered.
SowhenScottmentionedinpassinghe’dforgottentopackdinnertoday,Ifelttheoverwhelmingurgetocometohisrescue.I’dalreadymademyselfalemonpoppyseedsummerkalesaladandturkeywrapsanyway,soIfiguredI’dbringhimmyextras,lesthestarvetodeath.
Therearefourmassivegaragedoorsopen,housingthreebright-redfiretrucks.Istepintotheenginebaytepidly,entirelyoutofmyelement.Itsmellslikeamechanic’sshop,ripewithoil,gasoline,andtestosterone.
ThelasttimeIwasatafirestationwasformysecond-gradefieldtrip.Oneofmyclassmates,agirlnamedAlyssa,whogallopedaroundtheyardatrecessunderthedelusionshewasahorse,threwupherpizzaLunchableinthefiretruck.AccordingtoFacebook,she’smarriedwithtwochildrennow,livinginapicturesqueranchbungalow.
AsIletthatthoughtsoakin,Ispotatall,muscularguywithneatlytrimmeddarkhairandafullsleeveoftattoosadorninghisrightarm.He’sfiddlingwithsomesortofcontraptiononthesideofthetruck.HeflashesmeasmolderingsmileasIapproach.
“Areyoulost,ma’am?”Heexudesaveryovertbrandofcharmthat’sprobablyaninstantpantydropperformostwomenwiththegiftofsight.
Mycheeksburn.I’mhighlyregrettingmydecisiontoshowupwithoutnoticeinthefirstplace.IshouldhavetextedScottfirst.ButnowthatI’vebeenspotted,it’stoolatetoturnback.“Uh,I’mlookingforScottRitchie.”
Heraiseshisbrowwithinterestashegivesmeanot-so-subtleonce-over.“Scotty?He’supstairsinthelounge.”I’mabouttotellhimIhavenoideawheretheloungeiswhenheextendshishand.“I’mTrevor.”
“Crystal,”Isaywithapolitehandshakeasthenamesettlesinrecognition.TrevorisScott’sroommateandgodfathertoAlbus.Wehaven’tmetyet,becauseeverytimeIgotoScott’s,Trevoriseitheratworkorwithaladyfriend.AccordingtoScott,Trevorisaperpetualbachelor.Infact,heaffectionatelyreferredtohimasa“cynicalwomanizerbecausedaddyissues,”whichstrangelyencapsulatesthevibesI’mgetting.
Trevorgivesmeanamused,cockysmile,asifhealreadyknowswhoIam.IwonderhowmuchScotttoldhimaboutme.Thenagain,howmuchwouldaguytellhisfriendaboutagirlhe’scock-blockedfrom?
“Scott’sroommate,”Iconfirm.
“Suream.I’mguessingScotty’stoldyouallgoodthings?”Hecasuallyleansagainstthesideofthefiretruck,armscrossed,tattooedbicepsprominent,apparentlyinzerorushtoushermetoScott.
ButbeforeIcanrespond,abrawny,baldmanwithdeep-setbrowneyescomesbarrelingaroundthetruck.“Wordofadvice,don’tlookthisguydirectlyintheeye.Mostwomendon’tbounceback.”
IsnortasTrevorpuncheshiminthearm.“Dulynoted.”
“Didyousayyou’relookingforScotty?”themanasks.
Iflashhimanawkwardsmileandnod.Hewavesformetofollowhimthroughasmalldoorofftothesideandupanarrowcementstaircase.Trevorfollowsclosebehind.
“I’mKevin.YouScotty’sgirlfriendorsomething?”HeglancesattheTupperwareinmyarms.
Isnortagain.“No.I’magirlwhohappenstobehisfriend.Myname’sCrystal.”
Kevingivesmeaslysmile,obviouslyunconvinced.WepassthroughaminimalistboardroomadornedwithphotoscommemoratingfiremenIassumehavepassedwhileonduty.Uponseeingthesephotos,itdawnsonmejusthowseriousScott’sjobis.Everyday,herushesheadfirstintoallkindsofdangerousscenarios.Beingafitnesstrainer,mybiggestworryisdroppingaweightonmytoeorpullingamuscle.Comparatively,Scottcouldlosehislifeatanytime.He’sahero.Andyet,you’dneverknowittotalktohim,becauseheneverbragsaboutit.
Kevinleadsmeacouplestepsdownthehallwayintoanopenareawithaflat-screentelevisionandamonstroussuedesectionalsofa,sizableenoughtoseatatleasttwelve.Scottislyingonthecouch,armscrossed,ballcapoverhiseyes.Bytheslowwayhischestrisesandfalls,heappearstobesleeping.
Trevorgivesmeafunnylook,asiftosay,Waitforit.HegrabsarandomtennisballfromthetableandlaunchesitstraightintoScott’shardstomach.
Scottboltsupright,browsfurrowed,disoriented,asTrevor,Kevin,andIsnortwithlaughter.“Whatthefuck,man?”
“Youhaveaveryspecialvisitor,”Trevortellshim,watchingthetennisballbounceontothefloor.
Scottleansforward,squintingatmeasifI’mamirage.“Crys?”
Igivehimanembarrassingjazz-handswave,likethatofadadtryingtobehipinfrontofhistweendaughterandherfriends.ImakeamentalnotetoneverdoitagainaslongasIlive.“Lookslikeyou’reworkinghard.Orhardlyworking,Ishouldsay.”Icringe.Myuncooldadvibesareoutofcontrolrightnow.
Scottstands,roundingthecouchtowardme.“Ijustgotbackfromastressfulcallanhourago,smart-ass.”
IavertmygazefromhisgorgeouseyestotheTupperwareinmyhands.“Broughtyousomedinner.Soyoudon’tstarve.”
“Seriously?”
Inod,handingtheglasswaretohim.“Kalesaladandturkeywraps.”
Hislipscurlupwardashestepsforwardtopullmeintoaone-armedhug.“You’reamazing.Thankyou.”
Aninvoluntaryshiverripplesdownmyspinefromthetingleofhisvoiceinmyear.“It’snotrouble.Ihadextras.”IglanceatTrevorandKevin,whoareshouldertoshoulder,observingourexchangeinamusement.“Anyway,Ibettergetgoing.TaraandIaresupposedtohaveMelovertonightforamovie.”Ireallyshouldturntoleave,butIdon’t.Irockbackwardontheballsofmyfeet,loitering,becauseIwanttosoakuphismagneticpresenceforalittlewhilelonger.
Scotthesitantlychewshisbottomlip.“Hey,letmegiveyouthegrandtour.”
“Youdon’thaveto.Youlooklikeyouwereprettybusythere,”Itease.
Hebumpsmyshoulder.“Hush.I’llevenletyousitinthefiretruck.”
Kevinwhistles.“Onlyspecialladiesgettogointhefiretruck.”
Scott’scheeksflush.“It’strue.”
Iholdbackamassivegrin.“Okay,sold.”
Scottleadsmethroughthebuilding,introducingmetoeveryonewhowalksby.Alltheguysareeasygoing,friendly,andhighlyinterestedinmypresence.OneofthemasksmeifIlikedtheflowersyesterday,whichwarmsmyheart,becausenowIknowScotttalkedaboutmeatwork.
AfterwerazzScottabouthislovefortheBlackhawks,heshowsmewheretheystoretheirgearandtools.Heevenletsmeholdhisfirejacketandpants,whichmustweighagoodfiftypounds.
“Howlongdoyouhavetoputonallyourgear?”Iask.
“Aboutthirtyseconds,ideally.”Hesmileswhenhesetshishelmetontomyhead.“Youlookcuteinthat.”
Mycheeksburninstantlyasthehelmetfallsforward,shieldingmyeyes.“Don’tcallmecute.”
“Sorry,Ijustspeakthetruth.”Heliftsthehelmetbackoffwithacheekysmileandnodstowardyetanothernarrowdoorway.
Whenwereturntothegaragearea,hegesturesatagleamingfiretruck.“Everbeeninoneofthese?”
Iinchcloser.“WhenIwaseight.”
Hepointstothehandlebarsoneithersideofthemetalstairsleadingtotheentrance.“Holdontothehandlesasyougoup.”
“Youhavetopromisenottostareatmyass,”Isay,onefootonthefirststair,fullyawarehe’sstaring.I’mthankfulI’mwearingmybestleggings,whichaccentuatemybooty.
“Ipromisenothing.”Hemethodicallymakesapointofabsorbingmybacksidefromeveryangle.
Ihoistmyselfintothetruck,whichdoesn’tactuallyfeelthatspaciousinsidegivenallthescreensandgear.Iimmediatelygoforthedriver’sseat.
“Whichisthebuttonforthesirens?”Iask,pointingattheconsole.
“Don’ttouchanything.”HeswatsmyhandawayplayfullybeforeIhavethechancetowreakhavoc.
Hesettlesintothepassengerseat,myTupperwareinhislap.Ihandhimaforkfrommypurseandsilentlywatchinanticipationashetakeshisfirstbite,likeacontestantnervouslyawaitingjudgmentfromacelebritychefontheFoodNetwork.
“Thanks,Crys.Thisisreallygood.”
“Gladyoulikeit.”
Hecatchesmygazeandholdsit.“Iloveit.”
Themomentthosewordscomeoutofhismouth,goosebumpserupteverywhere,mostnoticeablyonmyarms.Mythroatinstantlydries.It’sasifhe’stoldmehelovesme,eventhoughhemerelylovesmysalad.Iclearmythroat,straighteningmyspine,desperatetochangethetopic.“Soasidefromsleeping,whatdoyouguysdowhenyou’reinbetweencalls?”
“Chores,usually.Lotsofcleaning,makingsureallthegearisgoodtogo.Wedotrainingtoo.Oh,andmeetings.Butsometimesit’sslow,sowejustshoottheshitorwatchTV,dependingonwho’ssupervising.”
“Andyouloveit?”
“Yeah.Lovetheaction.Everycallgetsmyadrenalinegoing.Imean,wegetalotofbullshitcalls,butwetreateachonethesame.Youneverreallyknowwhatyou’regonnagetwhenyoushowup.”Seeinghisfacelightupwhenhetalksabouthisjobisbeyondattractive.“Anditmakesmefeelclosetomygrandpa.Givesussomethingtobondover.”
“YoumustreallylookuptoMartin,followinginhisfootsteps,”Isay,mesmerizedbyhispassion.
“Yeah.We’vealwaysbeenprettyclose.”Hisvoicebreaksslightly.“EspeciallyaftermydadandmygrandmaSheilapassedinthesameyear.Abouttenyearsago.Makesyouwanttocherishthepeopleyouhaveinyourlifewhenstufflikethathappens.”
Mystomachturnstorocksattherevelation.“Inthesameyear?I’msorry,Scott.That’sawful.”
“Mydadhadarandomheartattack.Mygrandmapassedafewmonthslater.Herhealthkindofdeterioratedaftermydaddied.”
“Yourdadmusthavebeenreallyyoung.”
“Yeah.Noonesawitcoming.Hewasreallyactive.Alwaysoutrunningandbiking.Tryingtosetnewpersonalbests.”Hepausesandtakesanotherbite.
“SoundslikesomeoneelseIknow,”Isayaffectionately.
Hisashenexpressionrevivesitself,asthoughhedoesn’twanttodwell.“Anyway,enoughaboutthat.You’lllikethisstory…”
AsScottdownsthesalad,hedescribesamedicalcallfromamanwhoisafrequentcaller.Hewearsaliteraltinfoilhatandcalls911atleastthreetimesaweek,claimingaforeigngovernmentisleavingcodedmessagesintheformofburningpaperbagsonhisdoorstep.
Igiggleashepromptlymovesontotheturkeywrap.Hegroansloudlyonhisfirstbite,sendingacourseofheatthroughoutmybody.Ishift,resettlinginmyseat,tryingtothinkofliterallyanythingelse,likethestraypieceoflintonmyleggings.
“Thisismynewfavoritefood,”hedeclares.
“Whatwasyourfavoritefoodbefore?”
“Ribs.Yours?”
“Clementines.”
Hiseyeswideninelation.“ThosetinyChristmasoranges?They’relikecrack.”
“Right?Nooneelseappreciatesthem.”
“Ilikethem.Aslongasthere’snoneofthatwhitestringystuff.”
Irollmyeyes.“Thepith?Youhavetheeatinghabitsofasmallchild,Scotty.”
Hegrinsandtakesanotherbite.“Ihaveasophisticatedpalate,thankyouverymuch.Andthisshitisamazing.”Whenhesmiles,I’mimmediatelyremindedofhowdifferentourrelationshipisnow,comparedtoamonthago.Westillbanterconstantly,butthere’satendernessinhiseyesnowwhenhelooksatme.Likehetrulycares
“Ihaveaseriousquestionforyou,”Isayhesitantlyafterafewmomentsofsilence.“Andyou’renotallowedtolie.”
“Okay.”Heseemsunbotheredbymytone.
“Didyouhatemygutsatthegymwhenwefirstmet?”
“No.”Heshakeshishead,asifoffendedI’devenask.“Idon’thateanyone.AndIdefinitelydidn’thateyou.”
“Youdidn’thavemuchofanissuestealingthatsquatrackfromme.IevencalledyouSquatRackThiefuntiltheengagementdinner.”
Heburstsoutlaughing,hisdeepchucklesendingvibrationsthroughoutmybody.“Honestly,IwassostunnedyouwereeventalkingtomethatIdidn’treallyknowwhattodo.Ikindofjustfrozeup.AndIwasactuallygonnabelateforwork.GuessIcameofflikeanasshole,huh?”
Isetmyheadbackontheheadrest.“Imean,itwasaquintessentialassholemove.Iwassopissedatyou.”
Hegrins,likeit’sapersonalachievementtogrindmygears.“Oh,I’maware.Istillrememberthelookyougaveme.Prettysureyoucouldhavefrozenanentirecountry.”
“WhataboutwhenIwasputtingMelthroughsledpushes?Didyoupurposelystealourfloorspace?”
Heswallowshisbite.“Suredid.”
“Why?”
Hewaitsacoupleseconds,tighteninghislipsbeforespeaking.“BecauseIthoughtyouwerecool.Iwantedanexcusetotalktoyou.Ididn’tknowhowelsetodoit.”
I’mmomentarilystunnedathowseverelyImisjudgedhim.“Youdidn’twanttocomeuptomeandstrikeupaconversation?Youknow,likeanormal,maturehuman?”
“Itoldyou,Ihaveahistoryofbeingsociallyawkward.Idon’tapproachwomenontheregularwithoutapretext.”
“Ithinkpeopleseeyoualotdifferentlythanyouthink.”
Hisgazelingersonmyface.“Ithinkthesameaboutyou.”Hepauses.“WannaknowthefirstthingInoticedaboutyou?”
“Pleasedon’tsaymyeyes.”Ishylycoverthemwithmyhands.Myentirelife,myeyeshavebeenahottopic.Peoplehavealwaysfetishizedmy“light”eyes,whichmakesmeuncomfortable.
Hereachesforward,hisfingerscirclingmywrists,gentlypullingthemdowntomylap.“No.Notyoureyes,eventhoughthey’rebeautiful.Theyweresecond…ormaybethirdafteryourassinthoseleggings.”Hesmirks,watchingmyfacewithanexpectantgrin.
Ishouldbepullingaway,butwe’rebothleaningcloser.Theairhaschangedaroundus.I’mhypersensitivetoeverything.Theonewaywardhairfallingintomyeye.Thesoftnessofmyshirtagainstmyskin.Thefeeloftheseatbelowmythighs,whicharetinglingwithheat.“Thenwhatdidyounoticefirst?”
“Yourbeautymark,righthere.”Hisfingerbrushesthelittledotrightbelowmylefteye,closetomynose.
We’repracticallykneetoknee.Idon’tknowifit’sjustme,butthespacearoundusshrinkswitheachpassingsecond.
Heletshishandfallovermyknee,givingitalightsqueeze,sendingatrickleofelectricitytotheforgottenplacesinmybody.OurfacesarecloseenoughthatIcanfeelhiswarmbreathagainstmycheek.IfIclosedthoselastfewinches,Icouldkisshim.Hisgazeflickerstomylips.Icatchmyselfleaninginslightly,untilourforeheadsconnect.WestaylikethisforafewlongbreathsasIlistentothesteadydrumofmyheart.Finally,hetiltshisheaddownward,hislipsgrazingminewiththelightesttouch.
I’mabouttopresscloserasanequalandverywillingparticipantwhenanawful,high-pitchedalarmgoesoff,sendingmybloodpressuresky-high.Wejumpbacksimultaneously.
“Shit.It’sacall.Igottago.”Hiseasygoingfacesuddenlytransitionstothatultraseriousexpressionfromwhenwefirstmet.Heboltsoutofthepassengerseat,takingcaretogathertheTupperwarecontainers.
Ishuffleoutofthetruckafterhimaseveryoneracestothebackroombehindthefiretruckstogearup.
Hestopsforabeat,pullingmeinbythenapeofmyneck.Hethenrewardsmewithasoftkissonmyforehead.“Thanksforbringingdinner,Crys.”Itisn’taquickpeck.It’safull-onpressofhislipstomyskin.
Thenheboltsawaytothebackroom,leavingmemystifiedandpracticallyimmobile.
AsIwalkbacktomyapartment,myforeheadandlipssearfromthewarmthofhiskisses.Fromthetouchofourforeheadstogetherinthefiretruck.FromthelookinhisgreeneyesthatstirsupallthefeelingsI’mtryingtosuppressuntilAugust.Idon’tknowifIcanwaitthatlong.chapternineteen
STILLREELINGFROMourkissinthefiretruck,Ipickupsnacksonmywayhomeforgirls’night.Arom-comandadeep-diveriskanalysisonthemeritsofabandoningorabidingbymythree-monthrulearejustwhatIneedrightnow.
ButbythetimeIgethome,TaraandMelhavechangedtheplanswithoutbotheringtoconsultme.They’reincrisismode.Tarais“distraught”overhernewbobàlaKhloeKardashian,whichshe’sconvincedhasruinedherface(ithasn’t).Andworse,Melhadanepicfightwithherboyfriend.Ihidemyfaceinapillowanddramaticallypretendtosobwhentheyannouncethenewplanto“danceourtroublesaway”attheclub
Halfadrinkin,andthereasonclubsarenolongermyscenebecomesohsoapparent.InsteadofwearingmytrustyLulus,I’minaone-piecejumperthat’sgivingmeaperma-wedgie.WhereverIgo,mysenseofsmellisassaultedbyamixtureofB.O.,heavyperfume,andtheroseincensediffusedthroughoutthevelvet-wallpaperedspace
MelandTaraareintheirelement,dancingandflirtingwithstrangers,acquiringenoughfreedrinkstorenderthemhalfwayeligibleforastomachpump.
OneofMel’sfriends,Kelly,hasmetushere.She’sequallyasgorgeousasMel.Asianandtall,almostlanky.UnlikeMelandTara,whoaredolledupinfour-inchheelsanddressesplasteredtotheirskin,KellyiswearingBirkenstocksandabaggyT-shirtthatreadsNOPE,pairedwithsilkypajama-likepantsthatdonotmatchinanyway,shape,orform.It’sratchetashell,butIdigit.
Apparently,everyoneelsedoestoo.EventhoughKellyisn’tflauntingherassets,she’sattractingtheattentionofliterallyeveryguyinthisclub.They’redescendingonherlikemothstoaporchlight.She’soneofthosegirlswhoemitsthiswelcoming,free-spirit,manicpixievibebutwillcrushyourheartallthesame.Sheprobablyleavesatrailofsaltytearsandbrokenheartswherevershegoes,whichisfitting,becauseshe’satravelgrammer.
EventhoughI’mbeingamiserablewenchkeepingawatchfuleyeovertheproceedings,I’mpleasedTaraislettingloose.AfterbreakingupwithSeth,Iwasn’tsureshe’devermakeafullrecovery.Watchingherslow-grindagainstaguywholookseerilyliketheWeekndgivesmerenewedhope.
Melpullsmefrommysafespaceonthesidelinesandontothecrowded,swelteringdancefloor,nearlysploshingmewithherrumandcoke.
“I’mfinehereholdingthepursesandmakingsureyouguysdon’tgetroofied,”Iexplain,hopingmymommodewillwardheroff.
“Comeon!You’rebeingabuzzkill!”sheshoutsoverthehousemusic,slappingmesquareontheboob.
Isigh,appeasingthemforacouplesongs.AsIswayawkwardlytothemusic,I’mhavingahardtimeunderstandinghowIusedtodothisontheregularbackincollege.DancingwithTara,Mel,andKellyisn’ttheproblem.It’severyoneelsethatIcan’tstand.EverywhereIstep,I’mshouldertoshoulderwithtwenty-year-oldsaggressivelyfistpumping.Dotheyevenknowtheoriginsofthefistpump?Unlikely.TheywereliterallytenyearsoldwhenJerseyShorepremieredonMTV.
I’mofficiallydonewhenaguywitharattailgrabsmywaist,evenafterIturnedhimdownpolitelyonthreeseparateoccasions.He’sshamelesslyrelentless.Oneofthosecreatureswhodon’tunderstandthewords“I’mnotinterested.”I’mlikeabirdinflight,takingrefugeinarandomboothacrossfromacoupleinthemidstofasloppymake-outsessioninvolvingalotoftongueandgropinghandseverywhere.
AsIsoberlyobserveeveryonegyratingonthedancefloorfromthesafetyofthebooth,allIcanthinkaboutishowIdon’twantanystranger,good-lookingornot,totouchmerightnow.
Infact,theonlypersonIwanttohangoutwithisScott,who,ironically,wasmerelyaninfuriatingstrangeronlyamonthago.Despitetheshorttimewe’veknowneachother,thelevelofeffortlesscomfortbetweenusmakesitimpossibletoimaginewhatitwaslikewhenIdidn’tknowhim.
Ilookforwardtoturningover,bleary-eyedintheearlymorning,readingScott’stexts,especiallyhisrandommessageswhilehe’sonnightshiftandI’msleeping.Theoddtimewhenthereisn’tatextfromhim,Ifeelasmidgeofdisappointment.
Ican’tstopthinkingaboutthewayScott’sdimplesappearattheslightestsmile,theglintinhiseyeswhenhelooksatme,howhedoublesoverwithlaughteratthesmallestthings,howeasyitistoopenuptohimaboutanything,fromtheserioustotheridiculous,andhowniceitfeelstobeinhispresence,evenifwe’renotsayinganythingatall.
Rage-chuggingtheremainderofmysourdrinkistheonlythingthatremotelyhelpsexpungeinvadingthoughtsofbeingwithhiminthefiretrucktoday.
Myfeelingsforhimareconfirmedwhenhisnameappearsonmyphone.Iinstantlylightup,spellboundandhummingwithelectricity,asifsomeonehasjustturnedonthetwinklelights.
SCOTT:Justgotoffacallatthislady’shouse.Guesshowmanyferretsshehadinherapartment.
CRYSTAL:Onetoomany?
SCOTT:Higher.
CRYSTAL:20?
SCOTT:23!!
CRYSTAL:WHAT???
SCOTT:Right?Disgusting.*GIFofimmaculatelydressedTimGunnflickinghisdaintywristindisgust*
CRYSTAL:Ferretpeopleareweird.
SCOTT:Yup.Agirlinmyschoolhadone.Shebroughtitforshow-and-tellonedayinfourthgrade.Sheletiteatoutofhermouth…haven’tlookedataferretthesamewaysince.
CRYSTAL:Lmao.
CRYSTAL:Guesswhat?I’mataclubwithMelandTara.
SCOTT:Aclub?
CRYSTAL:Yeah.They’regrindingonthedancefloorrightnowwithrandoms.I’mjustheretospectateandwardoffthecreepers.
SCOTT:Whyaren’tyououtontheDfloortoo?
CRYSTAL:Iwas…thenaguywitharattailruinedit.
SCOTT:Wantmetocomekickhisass?
CRYSTAL:Howkindofyoutooffer.ButI’mgood.Ipreferbeingawallflower.
SCOTT:HahaIdon’tblameyou.Ican’tstandclubs.
CRYSTAL:Really?Iimagineditwouldbeyourhuntingground.Yournaturalhabitat.
SCOTT:Wow,youmakemesoundlikeamassivecreep.
Myphonevibratesfromhiscall,soIduckintothebathroom.
“Hey,”Iyellovermyringingears,eventhoughthebathroomistentimesquieter,asidefromtheflushingoftoiletsandthesquealingoftwodrunkengirlssharingastall.
“DoyoustillthinkI’mahugefuckboy?”heasks.
Ileanagainstthesink.“Ineversaidthat.I’mjustsayin’…YoulooklikeaMarvelsuperhero.I’dthinksomeonewholookslikeyouwouldtakefulladvantageofyourgeneticgifts.”Imakemyvoicelightandteasing,rememberinghowupsethegotthefirsttimeIfalselyassumed.
“Superhero,huh?SomeoneoncetoldmeIlooklikeaHemsworth.I’mbetterlooking,though.”
“Don’tgettoococky,”Iteasehim.“Youdon’thavetheAussieaccenttoheightenyoursexappeal.”Hemerelyhasstrong,protectivebicepsIwanttocurlintountiltheendofeternity.Butnomatter.
“Well,blimey,”hesaysinanawfulfakeaccent.
IshudderwithlaughterasIcatchmyreflectioninthesmudgedbathroommirror.Ipatdownmynowfrizzyhair.“Scott,thatwasBritish,notAustralian.”
“Oh,shit.You’reright.GuessIshouldstickwithmyMidwesternaccent.”
“Itsuitsyou.”I’mcutoffwhenthetwodrunkgirlsemergefromthestallscreechingabouta“bitch”namedBrittany.
Beforewehangup,IpromiseScottI’llcallhimwhenIgethome.It’ssadhoweagerIamtotalktohimagain.
Luckily,thingspickupafterIemergefromthebathroom.ThegirlsandIfindamoretolerablespottodance,andbytheendofthenight,I’venearlylostmyvoicefromdramaticallysinging(screeching)“WreckingBall.”
IcallScottbackthemomentIkickoffmyheelswhenwereturnhome.
“Areyouinbednow?”heasks.
“Yeah.Justclimbedin.Areyou?”
“Yup.”
Silence.Iwonderifhe’sthinkingwhatI’mthinking,thatIreallywishhewashere.Mybreathquickensatthemerethoughtofthewarmthofhisbodybesidemine.AsidefromthefactthatI’vephysicallyresistedtheurgetoclimbhimlikeatreeateveryopportunity,particularlywhenhe’sinallhismuscledgloryatthegym,Iundoubtedlylikehim.Alot.
Infact,he’smyfavoriteperson.HangingoutwithScottisalwayslight.Evenwhenoneofusisinaparticularlybadmood,we’reclutchingourstomachsinrip-roaringlaughterfifteenminuteslater.Laughterisastaplewhenwe’retogether.Idon’tthinkanyoneelsehasevermademecackletothepointoftearsandstomachpains,asifI’vedoneanentireab-ripperroutine.Andwheneverhe’snotaround,Imisshim.
Iwanttobewithhim.EverytimeIseehisface,Inearlylosemyresolve,justlikeinthefiretruck.ThemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreI’mstartingtorealizehowdifferentheisfromNeil.Lookingback,NeiltalkedaboutCammieconstantly.Iknewdeepdownhewasstillinlovewithher,butIchosetoignorethesigns.Andyet,Scottdoesn’tevertalkabouthisex,unlessIbringitup.Andhedoesn’tdwellonitforlong.
Maybethiscouldbedifferent.WhatamIwaitingfor?WhyamIdelayingtheinevitable?
Idrawinabreath,readyingmyselftodeclareTohellwiththereboundrule.Idon’twanttowaitanymorewithgusto,untilheinterruptsmytrainofthought.
“Ihaveaveryimportantquestiontoaskyou,CrystalAlannaChen.”Histoneisdeadserious.
Iswallownervously,staringupattheceiling.“Mm-hmm?”
“Doyousleepwithyoursocksonoroff?”
Isnort,unabletostiflemylaughter.“Obviouslyoff.Whatkindofsickindividualsleepswiththeirsockson?”
Heletsoutadramaticsighofreliefandpausesforanawkwardsecond.“Uh,myex-girlfriend,actually.Itwaskindofadealbreaker.”
“Isthattherealreasonyouendedthings?”Itrytokeepmytonelight,eventhoughI’mtakenoffguardthathe’sbroughtherupwithoutmyprompting.
“Thatwasafactor.Butbesideshowthingsended,wedidn’tclick.It’shardtodescribe.Shewasreallygreatonpaper.Hadeverythinggoingforher.ButthenI’dmakeajokeandshewouldn’treallygetit.Differentsenseofhumor,Iguess.”
“Ishumorimportanttoyou?”
“Always.”
“Why?”
Hepausesforamoment.“Mygrandmaalwayssaidyoushouldlaughatleastonceaday.”
“Ilovethat.”Iturnontomyside.“Whatwasshelike?”
“Hilarious.Shehadoneofthoseinfectiouslaughs.Like…evenifyouwerehavingtheworstday,shewouldjustlaughandmakeeveryonefeelbetter.OnetimethewholefamilywenttovisitduringthesummerwhenIwaseleven.Sheservedtheentirefamilyyogurtandberries,butshereplacedtheyogurtwithmayonnaise.”Hebeginstolaughandit’spurenostalgicjoy.
“Thatissogenius.Whatapowermove.”
“Ohyeah.Itwasgreat.Myoldestsistergotsickallovertheirlivingroom.”
Ismile,revelinginthesoundofhislaughter.Icouldlistentoitallday.Andthere’snoreasonIshouldn’t.Justsayit.Beforeyouchickenout.“Hey,Scott?”Myvoicecracks.
“Yeah?”
“Iwasthinking,rememberthatreboundrule?Whatifwe—”Astrangebreakinthelinecutsmeoff.“Hello?Youthere?”
“Shit,sorry,Crys.I’mgettingacall.Gottago.”Histoneisrushed,almostfrantic.
Myfacetwistsinamixtureofworryandconfusion.“Uh,okay.’Night.”
Thelinegoesdead.
Whatjusthappened?chaptertwenty
ISHOULDNOTBEinpubliclikethis.
ItlookslikeI’vedoneyearsofhardtimeinsolitaryconfinement.Myeyesarebloodshot.Myskinispale,practicallytranslucent.I’mdehydratedandmyhairissomattedI’msurelygoingtorequirescissorstoremedythesituation.Allnight,Itossedandturned,kickingmyduvetonandoff,unabletostopmymindfromchurningoutscenarios,noneofwhichbodedwellforme.
DidScottactuallyreceiveacall?OrdidhesensewhatIwasabouttosayaboutforgoingthethree-monthrule,changehisname,anddefecttoaremotedesertisland?
Maybehewasdisappointedbyourkissinthefiretruckyesterday,whichhasyettobeacknowledgedbyeitherofus.I’dassumedhe’dmakesomesortofcockyremarkaboutitlastnightonthephone.Buthedidn’t,whichisoff-brandforhim.
Andiftherewasarealcall,whowouldbecontactinghimattwointhemorning?AftermytimeonTinder,I’velearnedanycallortextafterten-thirtyatnightistobeconsideredabootycall,oranemergency.He’djustcompletedatwelve-hourshift,soIdoubthe’dbegettingcalledbackin.CouldithavebeenDiana?He’dliterallybroughtherupinconversationminutesbefore.
Orcouldithavebeenanothergirl?He’dtoldmehewouldwaituntilthewedding,implyinghewasn’tgoingtodateanyoneelse.Butmaybethatlongadryspellisatallorder,especiallyforaguywholookslikeanA-listactionmoviestarmasqueradingasanormaldudetoavoidthepaparazzi.I’mremindedofthiseverytimewe’reinpublic.Womendoquadruple-takes,eitherflirtingorfreezinguponsightofhim,noin-between.Oneladyevenslippedhimhernumberinthelineatthepharmacywhilehewastemporarilyholdingmypurse.Ifhewantedtogetlaid,he’dhardlyhavetoliftafinger.
Itdoesn’thelpthathehasn’ttextedmebackallmorning.MyheartsinksasIre-analyzemyignoredtextfromearliertoensureitcan’tbemisinterpretedoutofcontext.I’dteasedhimabouttheBlackhawksloss—ourusualbanter—nothingtobepersonallyoffendedby.Sowhyishesuddenlyignoringme?
TaraisquicktoremindmeofhowNeilwouldghostmefordays,claiminghewas“sobusy”whenrealistically,hewasanunemployed,strugglingmusician,gettinghighonhiscouch.Inherhumbleopinion,I’moverreacting.“Scott’sprobablyjustadulting,”shetoldmeconfidentlybeforeIleftforthegym.Butgivenhe’stextedmenonstopforthepastmonth,reportingthemostmundaneofthings,likethefactthathe’spouringaglassofmilk,itstrikesmeasuncharacteristic.Somethingfeelswrong.Ifeelitinmygut.
JustasIfinishmycooldownonthetreadmill,Scottfinallytexts.
SCOTT:You’recomingovertonight.
Hehasn’tfledthecountryafterall.Maybethingsarefine.Maybehehasn’tbeenintentionallyignoringmyveryexistence.
CRYSTAL:Um,Idon’trememberyouinvitingme.NordoIrememberacceptinganinvitation.
SCOTT:Ihavesnacks.
CRYSTAL:…Fine.
Onthepromiseofsnacks,IheadtoScott’safterdinneraftereditinganewworkoutvideotutorial.Theentirewaythere,Ifindmyselfnervouslypickingmynailstostubsinanticipationofanexplanation.Ihavenoideahowtoplaythis.ShouldIpretendtobechillaboutit?OrshouldIpounceandaskhimaboutthecallimmediately?
BythetimeIarrive,I’mstillundecided.Whenhisdooropens,amassiveballofbeige,curlyfluffboundstowardme,leapingatmyface.Afteralloftwoseconds,AlbusDoodledorehasmanagedtocoatmyhandsentirelywithslobber.Heflopshisganglybodyontothefloor,hyperventilating,tongueout,overthemoontoseeme.
“Hello,hello,nicetoseeyouagain.”Ilaugh,returningAlbus’snearlyhumansmile.Hisbushytailswaysbackandforthlikewindshieldwipersatfullspeed.Ikneeldowntogivehimagenerousbellyrub,whichhetakesfulladvantageof,rollingontohisback.It’sbecomeourritualwheneverIcomeover
“Nicetoseeyou,too,Isuppose.”IpretendtoregardScottdismissively,tryingtoignorethewayhetowersoverme,andhowhismuscularcheststrainsunderhisfittednavy-blueHenleyrolledattheelbows.ThemancanseriouslyweartheshitoutofaHenley.
Heclosesthedistancebetweenus.“That’showit’sgonnabe,huh?Thedogconsistentlygetsabettergreetingthanme.”
Mybodyfightstheurgetograbhisridiculouslybeautifulfaceandkisshim.ButwhenIrememberhowhehunguponmeafterrandomlybringinguphisex,Ithinkbetterofit.Instead,Icrossmyarmsovermychest,inadvertentlypushingupmyboobs,accentuatingmycleavage.“Mydeepestregrets.Wouldyoualsolikeyourbellyscratched?”
Hisgazeflickersbrieflyovermychestbeforesettlingbackonmyfacewithadevilishsmile.“Imean,Iwouldn’tsayno.”
Myfaceheats.He’sbeinghisnormal,deliberatelyflirtyself,whichonlyheightensmycuriosityaboutlastnight’smysterycall.Suddenly,theentrancewayfeelsfartoosmall.Inneedofair,Iinchpasthim,intothelivingroom.
Scott’sapartmentiscleanandsimple.It’solder,withoriginalwoodflooringandcrownmoldingaroundtheceilings.There’sasizablelivingroom,filledwithmasculineleatherfurnitureandaflat-screentelevision.Basicallyafratboy’sstarterpack.Acutoutwallseparatesthelivingareafromtheslightlyoutdatedkitchen.Asalways,it’ssurprisinglycleanfortwomenwhoworklongshifts.
Scottfollowsmyleadintothelivingroom,watchingasIperchonthearmofthecouch.There’salingeringsilence,castingabarrierbetweenusthat’sneverbeentherebefore.AsImindlesslystrokeAlbus’shead,Iwonderifhefeelsittoo.
Ican’tsuppressmycuriosityanylonger,norcanIstandtheawkwardness.“So…whocalledyoulastnight?”Ifinallyask.
Hiseyesimmediatelygotohisfeet,deliberatelyavoidingtheweightofmypenetratinggaze.Herunsahandoverthebackofhisneckbeforeclearinghisthroat.“Trevor.”
Ifrown,immediatelysuspicious.Heneveravoidseyecontact.“Why’dhecall?”
“TotellmeheletAlbusoutbeforegoingtowork.”Hisvoiceisclipped,likehe’sdesperatetomoveonfromthetopic.
ItstrikesmeasoddthatTrevorwouldcallhimattwointhemorningoversomethingsotrivial.Whynotsendasimpletext?
Iwanttopresshimfarther,interrogatehimFBI-style,becausemyguttellsmehe’slying.ButwhatelsecanIsaywithoutsoundingunhinged?Ihavenoactualproofotherwise,andIcan’tgoalljealousgirlfriendwhenwearen’tevenacouple.
Instead,Isettleonaninnocent,“Didyouhaveabusydaytoday?”
He’sstillavoidingeyecontactasheshrugs,handsdeepinthepocketsofhisdark-washjeans.“Uh,itwasokay.Didsomeerrands.”
Itiltmyhead,unconvinced.
Heregistersmysuspicion,finallymeetingmyeyes.“What?Youdon’tbelievemeorsomething?”
“Ihadn’theardbackfromyouthismorning.Ithoughtthatwaskindofweird.”
Hewatchesmeforamoment,thetensioninhisjawsoftening.“Sorry,really.Ihadalotgoingon.”
“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
“Nah,notrightnow.Appreciateit,though.”Hisvagueresponsedoeslittletoquellmynerves,andhesensesit.“It’snothingforyoutoworryaboutrightnow.Ipromise.”Hestepsforward,reachingforastrandofhairfallingintomyface.Hisfingertipsbrushmycheekasheplacesitgentlybehindmyear,eyeslockingtomine.They’resoftandsincere.Iknowhimwellenoughtoknowhewouldn’tdeliberatelyhurtme.
Iwanttorespecthisrequestforprivacy.Wemaybeclose,butit’snotlikeIhaveanautomaticrighttoknoweverythingthat’sgoingoninhislife.Isearchhisfaceforanysignofdeception,butfailtofindone.Ifhe’slyingtome,hedeservesanaward.“Okay.”
Iflopontomyusualspotonhiscouchwhileheriflesaroundinthekitchen.Whenhereturnstothelivingarea,he’sbearingfruit.Literally.There’sacartonofclementinestuckedunderhisrightarm.
Herememberedmyfavoritesnack.
“Noway.Wheredidyoufindthese?They’reoutofseason.”Grateful,Ireachtoplucktwofromthebox,almostentirelyforgettinghissketchybehavior.
“Ihavemyways.”
Mycheeksburnashiseyeslingerforamomentlongerthancasual.“So,whatdoyouwannawatch?”Iask,clearingmythroat.Isettleintheleft-handcornerofhiscouch,makingaconcertedefforttoloosenmygripontheclementines,lestIinadvertentlyjuicethemwithmybarehands.“Somethingtwentyminutesorless?”
Hesetshimselfdownbesideme,man-splaying,longlegsstretchedoutunderthecoffeetable.“Haha,veryfunny.IpromiseIwon’tfallasleep.Youhavemypermissiontotakeanymeansnecessarytokeepmeawake.”
Ishoothimamischievoussmile.“Anymeansnecessary?”
“Withinreason,”hewarns,pretendingtoinchawayfromme.
“Ithinkit’stimetoworkonyourstamina.We’llwatch…”Irackmybrainforamorbidlylongmovie.“LordoftheRings,”Isayevilly,knowingfullwellit’satrilogy,whichyieldsaboutninecombinedhourswithhim.
Hesmiles,amused.“Ididn’ttakeyouforabignerd.”
“Oh,I’madie-hardfan,”Ilie,justtogetariseoutofhim.
Hetriesnottolaugh.“Yeah?Doyouevendressupincharacterandgotoconventions?”
“Biannually.There’sonenextweek,actually.Wasgonnaseeifyouwanttocomewithme.”
“Oh,uh—”He’snotquitesurewheretogofromhere,soIlethimoffthehook.
“Scott,I’mkidding.I’mnotreallyafan.ItwasthelongestmovieIcouldthinkof.”Whichmeansmoretimewithyou,Ileaveout.
Clearlyrelieved,hechuckles,runningahandoverhisstubble.“Hey,Iwouldhavegone.Iwouldhavehatedeveryminuteandjudgedyoujustatinybit,butI’dgo.”
“Really?”
“Ifitwassomethingyoureallyliked,ofcourseIwould.”Myheartturnstogooinstantly.“MaybeI’devenletyoudressmeup.”HebounceshisbrowandIcan’thelpbutlaughattheovertlysexymentalimageofScottwithlongsilkylocks,wieldingasword.It’slessetherealOrlandoBloomandmorehaven’t-bathed-in-weeksHenryCavillinTheWitcher,andI’mverymuchhereforit.
Afterwequeueupthemovie,Iturnsidewaystostretchoutmylegs.Butthere’snoroomwithhimdirectlybesidemeinthemiddlecushion.Insteadofscootingover,hedrapesmylegsoverhislap.
Hedoesn’tlookatme,oracknowledgeit.It’sjustcasual,asifthisisthenorm.Anditfeelslikeitis.
“CanImakeaprediction?”heasksasFrododepartsonhisquest.
“Goforit.”
“TheuncleisFrodo’srealdad.”
Igivehimasarcasticstare.“Really?”
“I’mright,aren’tI?”
“No.Notevenclose.Thisisn’tStarWars.”
Hepondersforamoment.“Okay.GandalfisFrodo’sfather.”
“Scott,restassured.Thereisnobabydaddydrama.”
Hefakepouts.“Well,that’samissedopportunity.”
Scott’splethoraofoutlandishtheoriesdoesn’tstopatFrodo’sfather.They’refarranging,like“theblondelf”andGandalfaresecretlyinlove,orSamwiseGamgeeisgoingtobetrayFrodo,ortheringisacovertlisteningdeviceforSauron.Infact,theonlycorrecttheoryhe’sthrownoutisthatAragornistherightfulking.
Truthfully,payinganiotaofattentiontothemovieishumanlyimpossiblewhileherunshishandovermylegs.I’mansweringallhisquestionsfromstraightmemory.Infact,theonlythingthatkeepsmesaneanddistractedfromthebloomingheatinmylowerhalfisaggressivelypeelingclementines.Bythetimethefellowshipforms,IholdoutafreshlypeeledclementinetoaconfusedScott.
He’stoobusygesturingtotheTVlikeanoutragedsportsfantonoticestraightaway.“Howisthatlittleweirdowiththebugeyesstillfollowingthem?”Hiseyeswidenandhismouthfallsopenwhenhetakesstockoftheclementineinmyhand.“Youpeeledthatforme?”
Inod.“Ipainstakinglypeeledoffeverylastbitofthewhitestuffforyou.”
Hepresseshispalmtohisheartwithanopenmouthedsmile.“Holyshit.”Hetakesitfrommyhandgently,inspectingitsjuicybarenessbeforegivingmeanapprovinglook.
Headjustsmylegsonhislap,givingmythighasqueezebeforepoppingasliceintohismouth.Then,heturnstoplaceoneintomine.It’salmosterotichowhisfingertipsgrazemylowerlip,sendingasparkripplingdownmyspine.Myentiremouthtingleswithheat.
Ichannelmysexiest,mostsultryself,goinginforaslow,seductivebite.I’mbasicallyvintagebikini-cladParisHilton,rubbingmysoapybitsoveraBentleybeforeindulginginaTexasBBQCarl’sJr.burger,asonedoes.Unexpectedly,asprayofcitruslaunchesout.Asifinslowmotion,itsoarsupward,landingdirectlyinScott’slefteye.
Smooth,Crystal.Smooth.
Heimmediatelylurchesforward,pressinghiseyeclosed.
“Oh,crap.”Iswingmylegsoffhislap,coveringmymouthwithmyhands.
Hesquintsatmethroughsplayedfingers,shudderingwithsilentlaughter.“It’scool.I’mjustblind.It’snobigdeal.”
Itrytopeelhishandawayfromhisface.“Letmeseeyoureye.”
Herubsit.Hislidflutterswildlyasheattemptstoopenitalltheway,tonoavail.“Crys,it’skindofburning.”
Ipausethemovieanddashtohisbathroomtograbawashcloth,wettingitwithwarmwater.BythetimeIreturn,he’smanagedtoopenhiseyeagain.Ipressthewashclothoverit.“Iamsosorry.Ithinkthat’stheworstthingI’veeverdonetoaguy.”
“Yup.Gettinganacidburnintheeyeisdefinitelyafirstforme.”HetiltshisheadasIremovethewashcloth,revealinghisgorgeous,evergreeneyes.
“ExcusemewhileIperishfromembarrassment.”
Hechuckles.“It’sfine.Itisn’tburninganymore.I’llforgiveyoueventually.”
Ieyehim,cheeksstillred-hot.“Thegoodnewsis,you’vestayedconsciousforoverhalfofthefirstmovie.”
“BecauseIhavesomanyquestions.”
“IthinkyoumightbeaLordoftheRingsfan.Makesoneofus,”Isay.IhitPlayagain,resettlingonthecouch.
Hebringsmylegsbackoverhislapliketheybelongthere.“WhichcharacterwouldIbe?”
Ipretendtothink,buttheanswerisprettyobvious.“Aragorn.Onehundopercent.”
“Why?”
“Well,youbothhavesomeniceflow,forone.Andyou’reafirefighter.Soyou’rebrave,daring,andchivalrous.Whenyouwanttobe,”Iadd.
Henodsinquietagreement,clearlythrilled.“Whataboutyou?”
That’saneasyanswer.“I’mdefinitelyahobbit.Hardworking,patient,fair,andloyal.Preferstostayclosetohome.Strongmoralcode,senseofrightandwrong.”
“Can’targuewiththat.I’mprettysureyouhavetheExcaliburFitnessCenterpoliciesdowntoascience.”
Irollmyeyes,tossingathrowpillowathishead.Heducks.Whenhebringshisheadbackup,there’samischievousglintinhiseyes.“Youreallywannagothere?”
Inod,acceptinghischallenge.
BeforeIevenhaveachancetospeak,hepinsmylegsoverhislapandbeginsticklingmysidesmercilessly.MylegswriggleandthrashasItrytoslitheroutofhisstronggrip.Isquealinbetweenbreaths,unabletodoanythingbutgivehimaswiftswatinthechest.“You’retheworst.WhatdidIdotodeservethis?”
“Youmeanotherthanblindmewithacidicfruits?”
Pointtaken.I’mquitepreparedtogivemybodyovertosuffertheconsequences,somuchsothatIreadilylethimclimballoverme.Heplaceshisweightonme,pinningmywriststothearmofthecouchforabriefsecond.Thisviewisspectacular—hiscordedforearmsplantedoneithersideofmyhead,cagingmein.Ihavetheperfectviewofthethickswoopofhiseyelashes.
Hewatchesmeforafewmomentsbeforehisgazeflickerstomylips.IfIliftedmyneckevenslightly,Icouldkisshim.AndIwantto.Iwanttotastehimagain.Desperately.Heswallows,histhumbtracingthelineofmyjaw,cuppingmychin.Hetiltsmyheadup,lettingoutasoftsighbeforehislipsbrushagainstmine,stealingmyairandallmyresolve.
Ourlipsmeetagainandagain,sinkingintoaflurryofsweetkisses,gentlebites,justsamplingandtestingeachother.Irunonehandoverthestubbleofhisjaw,whiletheothercombswildlythroughhisthick,wavyhair,whichfeelslikesilkinmyhands.Ipawathim,wantinghimcloser.
Herollsoffmeandintoaseatedposition.“Comehere,”hecommands,asifhecanreadmymind.Hetugsmebythearmontohislap.
Ipositionmylegsoneithersideofhisthighs,feelinghisenthusiasmforthesituationasIsettleontohim.Hisgroanfillsmyearsanditmakesmefeellight,likeIcouldfloatupandawaywithhim.
There’safragilityinthewayhe’slookingatme,trulyatme.Asifhe’sinvitingmein,allowingmetoseeintothedepthsofhissoul.EveryguyI’veeverbeenwithwouldalreadyhavemypantsoffrightnow,buthe’streatingmelikeI’msomethingtobecherished,savored.
Beingwithhimfeelsanythingbutfleeting.It’slikeplungingheadfirstintoadeeppool,knowingthere’snowayout.
Asmallsmilefallsuponhislipsashemovesmyhairbehindmyear.“You’resobeautiful.”Hisbreathcomesoutinshallowpantsbeforehepressesanothersoftkisstothesideofmymouth.
Herunsaflurryofsmallkissesalongtheedgeofmylipsbeforecoaxingthemapart.Histonguemeldswithmineashishandmovestothebackofmyhead,tuggingmyhairgently.I’msurprisedthere’sanyoxygenleftintheentireapartment.
Thisfeelsdifferentthanourfirstkiss.Whileoursteamychangingroommake-outwasmind-numbinglyhot,akintounlockingeverysecretfantasyI’veeverhad,itwaslustspurringmeon.Theperfectstormoflustandloathingforanamelessgympatronwiththebodyofagod.
Thiskississomethingelse,becauseIknowScottonadeeperlevelthattakesmybreathaway.Iknowhe’sanoutgoingintrovert.Crowdedplacesdon’tfazehim,butifhecanavoidthem,hewill.Iknowhowsadhegetswhenheseeslostdogposters—helingers,readingthematleasttwicewithaheavysigh.Iknowhowhelikeshiscereal,withveryminimalmilk,duetohisaversiontosoggyfoods.AndIknowhowfunnyhethinkssomethingisbasedontheplacementofhishandtohischestandhowfarbackhetosseshishead.
Justknowingallofthesethings,amongamillionothers,intensifiesourfusion.Likethestakesarehigherthaneverwitheverymovewemake.
Hisfingersmovefrommyhairtomyback,runningupanddownmyspine.Iarchmyself,movinginaslowrhythmagainsthim,rememberinghowperfectlywemovedtogether.Eventually,thetipsofhisfingersedgearoundthecurveofmywaist,underthefrontofmysweater,dartingupward,overmystomach.
“Isthatokay?”hewhispersagainstmymouth.
Morethanokay.Inodandhecontinues,hishandsslowlymakingtheirwayaroundtheundersidesofmybreastsunderneathmybra.Hemoldstheminhispalms,skimmingthepeakswiththepadsofhisfingers,hisbreathquickeningwitheachpassingsecond.Atinglingsensationrocketsthroughme,renderingmedesperatetodrivemyselfevenclosertohim.
WhenIrollmyhips,heletsoutadeepgroanintomyear,graspingmythighstogroundmetohim.Suddenly,Ihatetheseleggingsandthethinlayertheycast,dividingmefromwhatIreallywant.
Asifhecanreadmymind,hisfingersdipunderthewaist,teasinglytuggingthemdown.Hishandcurvesovermyassunderneathmyleggings,givingmeafirmsqueeze.Hischestheavesashemeetsmywild,primalgaze,whichissilentlytellinghimtopushmearoundandhavehiswaywithme.
Then,outofnowhere,hestillsunderneathme.Lettingoutaraggedbreath,hepullshishandnorthofmywaist.Aveinpulsesinhisforehead.Helookshungry,starving,asifhe’sdoingallhecantoresist.
“Crys…”hesaysbetweenlaboredbreaths,“wecan’tdothis.”
“What?Why?”Istiffenontopofhimasdisappointmentavalanchesthroughmybody.He’srejectingme.TheonlyreasonI’mnotside-aerialingoffhislapisbecausehe’sstillfirmlygrippingmywaist,asifsilentlytellingmenottomove.
Hisfacelookspainedashedropshishead.“Because.We’rewaiting.Takingitslow.Remember?”
I’veneverhatedmyselfmorethanIdorightnow.WhydidIdothistomyself?Wastheoldmeofmerelyafewweeksagoreallythatvisuallyimpaired?DidInotwantmyMarvel-Chriscrushtosendmetotheedgewithjusthistouch?Sure,Ididn’twanttobehisrebound.Iwantedmorethanjustsex.Butcurrentme,withhismassiveerectionpressed
Icurvemyhandalonghisjaw,myfingertipsscratchinghisstubbleasIpullhisfaceclosertomine.“Screwit.”
Hismassivehandsclosearoundmycomparativelytinywrists.IfeellikeI’minshackles,whichdoeslittletoquellmyall-outcarnallustforhimrightnow.Ourfacesareliterallyaninchapart.Idesperatelywanttoclosethatlastinch,buthewon’tletme.
“Idon’twanttofuckyou.”Hisstarved,gravellyvoicedropsanoctave.I’mstunnedforamoment,notjustbecausehesoundslikethevelvetynarrationofaneroticfantasy,butbecausehe’sfull-onrejectingmerightnow.Sensingmyshock,hetightenshisgriponmywrists.“Thatcameoutwrong.”
“No.Iheardyou,”Isay,attemptingtoripmywristsoutofhisdeathgrip,tonoavail.
“Justlisten.Iwantto.Badly.”Hiseyesnearlypleadwithmine.“Butyoutoldmeyouneededtime.”
“Thatwasweeksago.I’vehadtime,”Iassure.“Whyareyousuddenlysoagainstit?”
“Becauseyouwereright.Ifwe’regoingtodothis,weneedtotrusteachother,withnodoubts.We’renotthereyet.”
Ifrown.“Doyounottrustme?”
“Ido.ButIdon’tknowifitgoesbothways.”
I’mhelplessbecausehe’sright,whichisexactlywhyIimplementedthistimeruletobeginwith.Tosavemyselffrombeingashinyobject,adistractiontogetoverDiana.
Ireleaseasmallsigh.“I’msorry.IhatethatIoverthinkeverything…IwishIcouldjumpin,headfirst.”
“Idon’twantyoutountilyou’reready.Really.Andit’snotjustyou.”Hedipshischin,avoidingeyecontact.“IhadatalkwithMartintoo.”
“Really?”
“Hewantsustobecareful,especiallyinthelead-uptothewedding.Hedoesn’twantanydrama.ThisweddingmeansalottohimandFlo.”
Iunderstandtheapprehension.TensionbetweenScottandmewouldputadamperontheoccasion.ButI’msurprisedbythesuddenshiftinattitudetowardourunion.LastIchecked,MartinandFlowerepracticallybeggingustodate.I’mtemptedtopryfurther,butIgetthesneakingsuspicionScottisn’tinterestedinsharingmore.SoIjustnod.“Yeah,makessense.We’llcoolit.”
Afterafewbeats,helooksbackupatme,eyesalight,asifhe’sjustcomeacrossararesaleonhishideouslyexpensiveproteinpowder.“Butthatdoesn’tmeanIcan’ttakeyouonacoupledatesinthemeantime.”
“Youwanttocourtme?Theold-fashionedway?”GrandmaFlowouldbesopleased.
Scott’scockysmirkreturns.“Whynot?Buttherewillbeold-fashionedconditions.”
“Conditions?”
Hisfingertipsrunafeatherlighttrailalongmycheekbone,sweepingacrossmyjawanddownmyneck,tracingmycollarbone.Hisgreeneyesareakaleidoscopeofwant,need,desire,everythingIwant.“Notouching,”hewhispersinmyearashesweepsmyhairtooneside,exposingmyneck.
I’mhardlybreathing.Infact,I’mpracticallyimmobile.Ifeelnothingabovethewaist,probablybecauseeverynervebetweenmylegshascatapulteditselffrontandcenter.
Hislipsgrazemine.“Nokissing.”
Isqueezemylegstogether.I’mgoingtodie.I’mgoingtospontaneouslycombustonthiscouchrightnow.
Hishandtracesstraightdownmyfront,overmybreasts,downthehillofmystomach,circlingaroundmyinnerthighovermyleggings,soclosetowhereIwanthim.Heleanscloser,hisbreathingstrained.“Andnosex.”
“What?”
HesmoothshisfingerovermeexactlywhereI’mcravingpressure.“No.Nosexofanykind.Nokissing.Notouching.”
“You’vealreadyfailed.You’retouchingmerightnow,”Imanageashisfingerscontinuetoworktheirmagic.Whenhepressesharder,Inearlyspinoutofcontrol.Myvisiontunnelsandadeliciousheatbloomseverywhere.Ishiftslightly,desperateforthatcontact.LiterallyonemoretouchandI’llbeagoner,overtheedge.Goodnightandgoodbyeforever,world.
Andthat’swhenhedarestotakehishandsoffmecompletely.It’sasifI’minchesawayfromthefinishlineandsomeoneviciouslygrabsthebackofmyshirt,pullingmeawayfromvictory.
Awickedsmilefallsoverhislipsashesitsbackfromme.Thebastardknowsexactlywhathe’sdoingtome.“Startingnow.”
Icanbarelyseestraight.Icoughduetomybone-drythroat.Isoundlikeacathackingupafurball.“You’rereallycommitted.”
“Ihavetobeifthisisgonnawork.Otherwise,we’llenduphookinguplongbeforeAugust.Idon’twanteitherofustoregretanything.Youwereright…aboutourfamilies.Ifthingsdidn’tworkout,Flowouldprobablymurdermeinmysleep.Weoweittoourselvesandeveryoneelsetotakethingsslow.”He’scompletelyright.Ifweweretocontinueonthistrajectory,we’dhookupandmyinsecuritiesfromNeilwouldresurfaceandprobablyswallowmewhole.
Sure,I’mfrustrated,likeacoiledballofyarnindesperateneedofdetangling.ButI’malsoentirelysmitten.ThefactthatScottisdoingthisdemonstrateshowmuchhetrulycares.WhenIthinkabouthowoutrageouslyamazingthismanis,myentirebodycalms,asifitknowshowperfectlyinsyncheiswithmeoneverylevel.Infact,I’mstrugglingnottoforcehimintomarriagerighthereandnow.
“Youhavenoideahowmuchthatmeanstome…Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
Hesmirksagain,raisinghisbrow.“Youdon’thavetosayanything.Justshowmehowmuchitmeanstoyou.OnAugustsixth.”chaptertwenty-one
3:20P.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“DOYOUFEELLIKEAFRAUDINYOUROWNLIFE?”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Andno,Idon’tmeanfraudasinwhenyoutextyourfriends“omgdeaddyinglmfaorofl”withacompletelystraightface.I’mtalkingaboutseriousthoughts,like“Igotlucky,”“Idon’tdeservemysuccess,”“Someoneisgoingtofiguremeout.”
ThesearerealthingsI’vethoughttomyself,andstillthinktomyselfoccasionally.I’monlyhuman.ItallstartedwaybackwhenIexclusivelyworeneonworkoutclothes,listenedtotrapmusic,andhitmyfirstcouplethousandfollowers.IthoughtIwas“unworthy,”especiallycomparedtoallthefittrainersouttherewithrippedabs.ThesefeelingsofinadequacydoubledbythetimeIgotmyfirstbigcollaborationwithNike.Theyofferedtosendmealiteralheadband.Aninch-widepinkpieceofelasticband.AndIcriedandcurledupinthefetalposition,sosuretheywouldcallmeoutonbeingaphony.
Similarly,I’malwaysseeingmyclientsdisregardtheirprogress.Asharmlessasthismayseem,you’reactuallydisregardingallofyourhardworkandholdingyourselftoimpossiblyhigh,unattainablestandards.
Butthereisgoodnews.Didyouknowmostpeople(ahem,mostlyhigh-achievingwomen)whofeelimpostorsyndromedosobecausethey’resimplydriventosucceed?Ifyou’refeelingsometypeofwayaboutyoursuccess,myadvicetoyouisstoptryingtochaseperfect.Noonewantsperfect,becauseitdoesn’texist.
CommentbyTrain.wreckk.girl:Ilovethis.Impostorsyndromeisalltooreal!
Commentbytrainermeg_0491:Ithinkthesethoughtsallthetime.You’reright.Perfectionisn’tpossible.Weshouldreallybeeasieronourselves.
CommentbyNoScRyan:Youcan’tcallyourselfhighachievingwhenyou’reatrainerandyou’reoverweight.
???
SCOTT:Albushasaquestionforyou.
Fivesecondslater,hesendsaphotoofAlbussittinguprightinahumanpositionwithatinysignthatreadsDatetomorrownight?
IfagoldendoodlenamedAlbusasksyouonadate,youkindofhavetogo.
CRYSTAL:Yes.
SCOTT:Wow.I’mhurtyou’resoquicktosayyestohimandnotme.
CRYSTAL:WhatcanIsay?Ilikewizards.
SCOTT:Ishouldhavehadhimdomybiddingweeksago.
CRYSTAL:WhatdoIwear?
SCOTT:Somethingnice.Don’tworry,nexttimeI’llbringyousomewhereyoucanwearyourleggings.
CRYSTAL:Damn,you’realreadybankingontherebeinganexttime?WhatifI’msuperboring?Orweird?
SCOTT:I’mboringtoo.AndIalreadyknowyou’reweird.
CRYSTAL:WhatifIchewwithmymouthopen?Ortalkduringimportantmoviescenes?Orspendtoomuchmoney?
SCOTT:Alltolerable.
CRYSTAL:WhatifIhaveaneedlefetish?
SCOTT:Nocomment.
???
“WHEREAREWEgoing?”Iask,adjustingthehemofmyfloralsundress.
Scottistakingmeonwhathe’sbeencallinga“topsecret”dateallday.Ascuteasitis,theanticipationiskillingme.I’veneverbeenonefortheelementofsurprise.I’moneofthosepeoplewhoreadeverymoviespoiler.Ialwaysknowwho’sgoingtowinTheBachelor,thankstoRealitySteve.
“Justwaitforit.”Scottflashesmehismesmerizingsmile,onehandonthesteeringwheel,theotheronthecenterconsole.It’sreadilyaccessible,purelytotauntme.
Atonepoint,Itrytograbhishand.Buthepromptlybatsmeaway,flashingmeanintoxicatingwink,remindingmeofthenotouchingrule.AsthankfulasIamforScott’sefforts,I’mlikeachildwho’sbeentoldtheycan’thavethecandyrightinfrontofthem.Iwanttotesthislimits.
Ifighttosuppressnature’surgesaswedrivethrougharelativelynewersuburbanneighborhoodtowardanareawithbrand-newcustombuilds.
Istareatthehomesinawe,stiflingmyamusement.“Didyoubringmeheretocreepinthewindows?”I’dpassivelymentionedhowcuriousIwastoseewhatthesehomeslookedlikeontheinsideacoupleweeksagoonourwaybackfromdinnerwithmyparents.
Hegivesmeathroatylaugh.“Yup.”
“Thisisofficiallymyfavoritedateever,”Itellhimashepullstotheshoulderoftheroad.
“Ever?”
“Ithinkso.”
“You’resuchanoddball,”hesaysthroughamassivegrin.
Iattempttochannelthepictureoftranquilityaswewalksidebyside,shouldersgrazingeversoslightly.Wejourneydownthenot-yet-paveddirtroad,pastsomeofthegorgeousCraftsmanhomesthatappeartobecomplete,atleastontheexterior.
“Ilovethesehomes.IjustwishIcouldseeinside,”Ilament.
Henodstowardoneofthelargesthomesinthecul-de-sac.“Let’sgoin.”
Istopinthemiddleoftheroad.“Wecan’tjustgoin.”
“Sincewhenareyouagainsttrespassinginplacesyou’renotsupposedtobe?Youhavenoissueswithchangingrooms.”Hegivesmeawrysmile.“AndIbettheyaren’tevenlocked.”
Itakeaquickglancearound.There’snotasoulinsight,giventhehousesaren’tyetoccupied.Normally,Iwouldn’tbecaughtdeadtrespassingonprivateproperty,butScott’scult-leader-levelcharismamakesmewanttodrinkallhisKool-Aidandbendsomerules.
Wejogupthestepstothefrontdoor.It’slocked.Idon’tknowwhethertoberelievedordisappointed.I’mabouttorunbacktothestreetwhenhecontinuesaroundthebackofthehouse.BeforeIcanevenyellathimtogiveitup,he’smanagedtopryopenthebasementwindow.Hislipstugupwardindefiance.“Comeon.”
Iwatchtepidlyashesneaksin,wedginghisbroadshouldersthroughthewindow,landinggracefullyinside.
Heevaluatestheunfinishedbasementandthenglancesupatme,armsoutstretched.“Getoverhere,”heorders,lowandgravelly.
Itakeonelastlookaroundtoensuretherearenowitnessesbeforeslidingthroughthewindow,legsfirst,straightintohisarms.Irevelinthefeelingofhishardbodyagainstmine.“Webrokein.”
Hegrins,proudofourcriminality.Heholdsmeforabeat,hishandstrokingthesmallofmyback.Theintensityofhiseyesholdsmeinplace.HisgazeflickerstomylipsandIbracemyselfforahot,adrenaline-rushkiss—derivedfromtheexcitementofbreakingthelaw.Hebendshischin,loweringhislipsaninchfrommine,hoveringforamomentbeforeabruptlyturninghisback.Hejogsupthestairstwoatatime,callouslydeprivingmeofhistouch.
Themomentmyfeethitthemainfloor,we’reoff.Werunfromoneroomtoanother,practicallyflyingthroughthehouse,ourlaughterechoingoffthebarrenwalls.Thehomeisessentiallyfinished,asidefromafewpilesofextrawoodplanksandsawdustsprinklingthefloors.Thisparticularmodelboastsgleamingbrown-grayhardwood,anall-white,gleamingkitchen,andabeautifulopenlayout.Therearefourbedroomsupstairs,withahugeclaw-foottubinthemasterbedroomensuite.
Weclimbintothetub,sittingoppositeeachother.Hislonglegstakeuptheentirespace,makingitimpossiblenottotangletogether.
Ilaugh,unabletogetcomfortable.“Thisarrangementdoesn’twork.You’retootall.”
Hewavesmetowardhim.“Comehere.Sitwithyourbacktome.”
Idry-swallow,digestingthefactthathewantsmetositbetweenhislegsasifwe’reapairofhandsyteenagersinthebackofapickuptruckatadrive-inmovie.Iraisemybrowathishighlyeroticsuggestion.“We’dbetouching.”
“Nah.Doesn’tcount.It’sforpracticalpurposes.”Heflasheshismesmerizinggrin.“Iwon’ttouchyou.Ipromise.”
Ieyehimsuspiciouslybeforespinningmyselfaroundfasterthananamateurbreak-dancer.Isettleinbetweenhisstronglegs,leaningagainsthischest.Eyesclosed,Itakeinhisdeliciousscent,wishingIcouldbottleitandspritzitaroundeverywhereIgo.IbetIcouldevenpatentitandmakemillions.
It’sabitawkwardwithhishandsathissides,settledonhisknees,nottouchingme.Butifthisisascloseaswecanget,I’mnotgoingtocomplain.
“Iwantahouselikethisoneday.”IclosemyeyesasIclaspthecoldedgesofthetub,lettingoutasmall,mildlypornographicmoan.Themusclesinhisthighsclencharoundmeandhepromptlyshiftsbackslightly.Ismile,becauseIknowI’mnottheonlyonestrugglinghere.
“Ifyouhadahouselikethis,you’dneverleave,”hechuckles.
Iletmyheadfallagainsthisfirmchest.“True.Andneitherwouldyou.”
“Howwouldyoudecorateeachroom?”
“I’vealwayswantedavelvetgreencouch.Maybesomesortofgold,green,andbeige-ythemeinthefamilyroom.Thekitchen’sperfectasitis,whiteandgray.I’vealwaysloveddarkercolorsforthemaster.Andthenfuncolorsforthekids’rooms.”
“Ohyeah?Howmanykids?”
Ipursemylipsinthought.“Two.Aboyandagirl.”
“I’mhavingatleastthree.Andobviouslyatleasttwodogs,”hesays,deadpan.
Inearlychoke.“Atleastthreechildren?You’llrequireamomvan.”
Heshrugs,asifcoolwithit.“Thefullseven-seater.”
Ilaugh,picturinghimasasuburbandadinaminivan.HegivesmemoreofasportySUVvibe,buttheimageishilariousnonetheless.NowthatI’veenvisionedhimasasexy-as-sindomesticdad,there’snounseeingit.
“Iwantapool.”Hewaveshishandtowardtheroundwindowbesidethetub,whichoverlooksthesizable,un-soddedbackyard.“WehadapoolwhenwemovedtoBoston.Thoughmydadalwayscomplainedaboutcleaningit.”
“Whoneedsapoolwhenyouhaveabathtublikethis?”Iresettle,makingmyselfathomeagainsthischest,pressingfartheragainsthim.
Heswallowsagainstthebackofmyhead,buthedoesn’tmove.Infact,Ifeelthefullbruntofhisenthusiasm.Hisbreathinggoesraggedagainstme.
Ismile,pleasedwithmyself,continuingonasifnonethewiser.“Bathsareessentialtomyhealthandwell-being.”
“Yeah?Whatdoyoulikeaboutthem?”Hisvoicecomesoutstrained.
Itiltmyheadinconsiderationandturnbackaround,repositioningsowe’refacingeachotheragain.“They’rerelaxing.Withacandle,music,bubbles,oils…andsoap.Justlatheringmyself…”Ileanbackagainsttheoppositeendofthetub,imaginingthewarmwaterlappingagainstmybareskin,themixtureofthefruity,citrusscentofmysoapandtheblossomscentofmycandle.
“Showme,”hecommands,eyeslockedtomine.
“Istartuphere…”Withachinglyslowprecision,Imethodologicallyrunmyhanddownmyneck,overmybreasts,andovermystomach.Itmightbeevil,butIwanttobreakhim.Iwanttowatchhimloseallrestraint.
HisheatedexpressionspursmeonasIdipunderthehemofmydress,bringingitupward.Myfingersteasearoundmyinnerthighs,andbetweenmylegs.Myskinisonfirefromhiseyesalone.“SometimesI’lldothis.”Islipmyhandunderthethinlaceofmypanties.
HepracticallylurchesforwardwhenImakecontactwithmyself.Fromthewayhe’sclenchinghisfists,eyesdark,focusedonmyfingersunderthelace,I’dsayhe’sonthebrinkoflosingthebattle.
Imoan,fingerscontinuingtoswirlaroundmywarmthtorelievethepressure.Upuntilnow,thechangingroommake-outwasthehottestmomentofmylife.Buthimwatchingmelikethis,vulnerableinfrontofhim,officiallytakesthetitle.
Justthewayhe’slookingatme,asthoughhe’sfullywithme,isall-consuming.It’sdifferentthanI’veeverexperiencedbefore,tothepointofbeingpetrifying.Iwanttolosemyselfcompletelyinhimandnolongerexist.Idon’tthinkIcouldeverbethesame,notafterthis.Bythewaymyheartachesforhiminthismoment,Iknowifhehurtsme,I’llbecompletelywrecked.I’llbebrokenbeyondrepair.Andstrangely,theriskfeelsworththereward.
Igripthesideofthetubwithmyfreehand,swivelingmyfinger,thepressurebuildingwitheachsecond.
“You’resowet,”hepantsoverme,thesilkyevidenceofhiseffectonmyfingers.Ourchestsarerisingandfalling,thetensionthickeningwitheachpassingsecondhe’snottouchingme.Infact,hishandsareclaspedonthesidesofthetub,knuckleswhite,confirmingthattheholdhehasonmehasnothingtodowiththephysicalworld.
Hisvoicealonemakesmeshiver.Iwatchthecordsinhisforearmsflexandshake.Hegruntsashelosesrestraint,reachingtoplacehishandovermine.Ihavenoideawhathe’sabouttodo,butI’mfullyonboardwithafirst-class,one-wayticket.
Eyeslockedtomine,hemovesmyownfingerinandoutofmeatatantalizinglyslowpace.
“Aren’tyoubreakingtherules?”Imanageteasingly,stiflingamoan.
“Partially.”
I’munabletocomeupwithawordtodescribethesightofhimpleasuringmewithmyownhand.We’vebrokenournotouchingrule,buthe’sstillsemi-abidingbyavoidingkissingmylipsandnottouchingmeanywhereelseexcepttoguidemyhand,whichismaddeninginitself.Heleansintopressaslowkisstomytemple,ourbreathblendingtogetherashemovesanotheroneofmyfingersin,hisownhandgrazingmywarmthintheprocess.
“Ohgod,”Igasp,clenchingaroundmyselfasthejoltofpleasurehitsme.I’mnumbtoanythingandeverythingexceptwhathe’sdoingtome.
Hepumpsmyfingersfasterandharder,holdingontothebaseofmyneckwithhisotherhand.Abloomofheatshootsfromthebaseofmyspine,rocketingtoalltheforgottenplacesofmybody.Myinnerwallspulsate,closinginaroundmyfingers,fasterandfasterasthetensionbuildstoanunmanageablelevel
“Letgoforme.”Hislow,raspyvoiceinmyearisallittakesfortheknottofinallyuntangle.
Ablindingshockwaveripsthroughme,fastandunexpected.I’mshakingasIclasphishairinmyfingers,desperatetoanchormyselftohimasthetidalwavehitsme,overandover,slammingmehome.Ineverwantthistoend.IneverwanttoforgethowitfeelstohaveScottlookatmethewayhe’slookingatmerightnow,hiseyecontactunbreakingashewatchesmeunravelinfrontofhim.
Heletsoutastrangledmoan,pressinghislipstomyforehead,threadinghisfingersthroughmyhair,cradlingmeasIstruggletocatchmybreath.“Christ.Iwantyousobadlyrightnow.”
“Howbadly?”Ieyehim,stillridingtheresidualwavesofmyhigh.
Heletsoutanexaggeratedsighbeforegraspinghishandsonthesidesofthetub.“Badenoughthatweneedtogetoutofhere.Now.”
Iflashhimawickedsmile,noddingtowardtheverystrainedzipperofhisjeans.“Youalreadybroketherules.Whynotletmehelpyouout?It’sonlyfair.”
Histeethareclenchedashepauses,hanginghishead.“Wecan’t.I’mtwosecondsawayfrombreakingallrulesandshovingyouontothatcounter.”
Mycheeksflush.“I’mnotopposed.”
“You’rekillingme.”Heletsoutamuffledgroanashestepsoutofthetub,hisexcitementveryprominent,ateyelevel.
I’mimmobileforafewbeats,juststaringatit,mouthopen,wishinghedidn’thaveasuperhumanlevelofdiscipline.
“Hey,myeyesareuphere.”Hesmirksatme,obviouslypleasedwithhimself.Thenheturns,makinghiswayoutoftheensuite,whistling,asifnothinghappened.
WhenIdon’tfollowimmediately,hepokeshisheadbackin.“Allgood?”
Igiveawildnod,drasticallyfailingtoremainunfazedbyhissoul-rockingsmile.Yup.Cool.JustpretendingIwasn’tabouttojumpyourbonesandravageyouinreturnforthebestorgasmofmylife.Kindlyfetchmeastraitjacket,becauseI’mincapableofpracticingbasicself-control.chaptertwenty-two
IT’SBEENAweeksincethebathtub.Inthedayssince,Scotthasbeentryingtopretendthateverythingiscompletelyandtotallyokaybypracticingrigorousself-controlandensuringasafedistancebetweenus.Twocouchcushionsaway.Avoidanceofsmallspaces.Atalltimes.Infact,henearlydroppedhiswaterbottlewhenourfingerslightlytoucheduponexchange,asifmyskinwaslava.
AsmuchasI’mkeentoabidebytheold-fashioned“courting”arrangement,Iamamillennial,afterall.Instantgratificationisbeyondtempting,particularlywhenhebrushesagainstme,dutifullyspottingmeasIdomysquatsets.
Buttoday,Ihavenotimetoreflectonmypent-upsexualfrustration,becauseI’vebeentaskedtogallivantaroundthegreaterBostonareatopickupdécoritemsGrandmaFlofounddirtcheaponFacebookMarketplace(hernewobsession),asifsheneedsanexcusetobuymorejunk.
CenterpiecesandmiscellaneousdécorareabouttheonlythingsGrandmaisnotinheritingfromwhatwasformerlyTara’swedding.Apparently,Tara’sdécorladyissuedapartialrefundaftershebrokedowncryinginherofficedaysaftertheweddingwascanceled.
Fetchingitemsfromrandompeopleonlineisalwaysanadventure.AndScotthasvolunteeredtojoinme,despitedelayingmebyanhourandahalfwithnoexplanation.
WhenIpickhimup,hemumblesabored“Hey,”butmakesnoeyecontact.
He’shardlyspeaking,asidefromone-wordanswers.He’stheoppositeofhisnormal,happy-go-lucky,smiles-when-he-talksself.Hedoesn’tevencrackasmilewhenIblast“ThongSong”bySisqóatmaximumvolume.Listeningtothedirtyanthemsofourmillennialyouthinridged,thicksilenceishellaawkward.Andit’snotjustmyimaginationthathe’salsopressedasfaraspossibleintothepassengerwindow,scrollingonhisphoneforthirtylongminuteswhilewe’restuckintraffic.
IsneakasidewaysglanceathimwhilecommittingtheultimatecrimeofloweringthevolumeonBeyoncé.“Youknow,youdidn’thavetocomeifyouweregoingtobeamiserabletwerptheentiretime.”
Hearcheshisbrowatmeforasplitsecond.“Amiserabletwerp?That’sanewone.”
“Istandbyit.”Itightenmygriponthesteeringwheel.“Seriouslythough,justsaythewordandI’lldropyoubackoff.”
Hekeepshisstarelockedstraightahead.“No.Iwanttohangoutwithyou.”Histonedoeslittletoreversemycloudingdoubt.
ButthoughI’mcuriousaboutwhyhe’sactinglikeanemosixteen-year-oldboytormentedbythoughtsofhismortality,Ihavelittletimetodwell,becausewe’vereachedourfirststop.We’repickingupaboxofunusedvotivecandlesfromamansportingahideousbeigeturtleneckthatmightaswellbeafederaloffense,asMelwouldsay.HisnameisSpikeWhyGrandmathoughtitwouldbesafetosendmetotheaddressofamannamedSpikeisbeyondme.
Onourwaytotheseconddestination,we’veadvancedtomakingstiltedsmalltalkabouttheoppressivelyhumidweatherlikesixty-five-year-oldretirees.Orrandomcoworkerswhohaveabsolutelynothingincommonforcedtogetheronsomedreadfulbusinessroadtrip,whichstrangelysoundskindofhot.
ItrytopushhisbehaviortothebackofmymindasIjourneyinsidetoretrievefauxgreeneryfromaseeminglycheeryladywithbountifulmom-energywhoinsistsIcomeinandperusetheotherdécorforsale.ButwhenIhearpoundingandexorcist-stylescreamingcomingfromadoortowhatIassumeisthebasement,Ibolt,feigningdigestivedistress.WhenIreturntothevehicle,alivetotellmytale,Scottbarelyevenlooksupfromhisphone.HadIperishedinsidethathouse,he’dhavebeennonethewiser.
Thankfully,thethirdstopisuneventful,savefortheheavy,hideouscandelabrasScotthastoTetrisintothetrunkofmycar.
Thefinaltaskistopickuplanternsandfairylightsfromafarmhouseweddingvenuethathascloseditsdoorsforgood.
Whenwearrive,it’sabundantlyclearwhythevenueisoutofbusiness.ItliterallylookslikeascenefromTheTexasChainsawMassacre.Thebarnisdilapidated,andquitefrankly,Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifit’shaunted.Thereareabunchofsketchy-lookingfarmtoolsleftfordead,decomposingaroundthepremisesamongweedsextendingtomybellybutton.Idon’tevenwanttothinkabouthowmanywildcreaturesarelurkingabout.Itdoesn’thelpthattheencroachingdarknessiscastingeerieshadowseverywhichway.
Scottputshishandoutinfrontofmeasweapproachthebarn,asifexpectingsomesortofattack.“Arewesurewe’reintherightplace?”
Whenweknockonthebarndoor,thereisnoanswer.Idon’tthinkthereisanotherhumanbeingformiles.It’slocatedonapropertydeepdownanunkemptdirtroad,ifyoucanevencallitaroad,whatwiththedensebushonbothsides.Infact,itdoesn’tevenappearonGoogleMaps.I’msurprisedwefounditinthedarkofnight.
Icastmygazearound,listeningtotheswishoftheleavesblowinginthewind.Alongstringoflanternsdroopsinbetweenabigoaktreeandtheroofofthebarn.IseriouslypraythosearenotthelightsI’vebeensenttofetch.
IcallGrandmaFlo.
“Grandma?”
“Hi,dear,howareyou?”
“I’mokay.Look,ScottandIhavegonearoundtogetyourdécorand—”IcutmyselfoffthemomentIrememberScott’stalkwithMartinandhisrequestthatwetakethingsslowinthelead-uptothewedding.WhileI’vebeentemptedtoaskFloaboutthissuddenchangeofopinion,wehaven’thadanyone-on-onetimeoverthepastweek.
“Howdothecandelabraslook?”sheasksexcitedly,apparentlyunbotheredatthementionofScott.
“Um,they’renice,”Iflat-outlie.“Anyway,I’mat—”
“Didyougetthegreeneryforfivedollars?Ireallydon’tthinkitwasworthten.”
“Wecompromisedatseven,”Ilieagain.Aftertheexorcistsounds,thelastthingIwantedtodowasstickaroundandbarter.“Anyway,I’matthelaststopatthatweddingvenuetopickupthelanternsandlights.Butthere’snoonehere.”
“Really?Givemeaminute.”
IcanheartheclickingofherfurioustapsonheriPad.ScotthasgonewanderingaroundthepremiseswhileIwait,vulnerableandalone,searchingforanysignofmovementamongtheshadows.Ifullyexpectsomethingtoemergefromthebushesandattackme,whetherperson,animal,orpissed-offspiritwithunfinishedbusiness.
“Theladyjustresponded.Theyforgotwewerecomingtopickitupandthey’reoutoftown.Shesaidyoucangrabitallforfree,giventheinconvenience.”
Isigh,relievedwhenScottcomesbackaroundthefront,waiting.IforcemygazefromhisbicepsstrainingagainsthisnavyfiredepartmentT-shirtbacktowardtheheightofthetree.“It’sliterallystillstrungupinthetrees.Idon’tthinkIcangetupthere,”Isay,takingstockofhowhighthelanternsare.Scottfollowsmygazeandshakeshishead,silentlytellingmeDon’teventhinkabouttryingitwithhiseyes.
GrandmaFlosighswithdisappointment.“Ijustlovedthoselights.They’reafortuneinthestores.”
“Youknowwhat?Don’tworry.We’llfigureitout,”Ireassureher.
“Thankyou,Crystal.Loveyou,honey.TellScottyIsaidhi.”
“Willdo.Bye,Grandma.Loveyou.”IturntoScott,who’sstandingwithhisarmscrossed,seeminglydazed.“Thinkthere’saladdersomewherearoundhere?”
Heturns,appraisingthepremisesasifinslowmotion.“Maybe.I’lltakealook.Stayhere.”
Iputmyphonebackinmypocketandwait,staringupatthemassivetree.Itmustbefifteenortwentyfeettall,atleast.Tootalltoclimb.Thenagain,I’veneverbeenonetoshyawayfromachallenge.
???
THISWASOFFICIALLYtheworstideaofmylife.It’suptherewiththetopthreemostmoronicthingsI’veeverdone,includingthetimeinkindergartenwhenIconfidentlyateapurplegluesticklikeitwasachocolatebar.Iwassureofmyself,scalingthetreelikeSpider-Man.Ididn’tnoticehowhighI’dclimbed.AndI’mnotevenwithinreachofthelanternsyet.Apparently,myfearofheightswasalsounknowntome.UntilIlookeddown.
Scottmadeitworsewhenheemergedfromthebarnwitharickety-lookingladderthatIdoubtcouldholdmorethanoneundersized,malnourishedchild,andberatedmeforclimbingup.
Clutchingthetreebranchfordearlife,tremblingwithlip-bitingfear,I’munabletoletoutafullbreathorkeepmyeyesopen.Forthepastfifteenminutes,I’vetriedtopsychmyselfupforthedescent,butI’mimmobilized.Thethoughtofmovingmyfoot,oranypartofmybody,makesmystomachdip,asifI’mabouttoplummettomydeath.
IneverimaginedIwoulddielikethis,fallingfromatreeoutsideanabandonedbarn.Grandmaisgoingtobedevastated,bothbecauseofmyuntimelydemiseandbecauseofthelackofmagicallanternsatherwedding.
Scottleanstheladderagainstthefootofthetreeandtestsit.Hesquintsupatme.“Stayexactlywhereyouare.”
Ikeepmyeyessqueezedshutuntilhisvoicegetslouderandlouder,signalinghisincreasingproximity.WhenIdaretoopenmyeyes,he’sthreefeetbelowme,onefootstillontheladder,handextended.
“Sweetheart,listentome.”
“Don’tcallmethat,”Isnap.ThelastthingIneedistodigestbizarrelytimedpetnameswhendeathisnigh.
Hedoesn’tappearfazedbymytone.“Youneedtoletgoofthebranchveryslowlyandstepdownsoyoucangrabmyhand,okay?”Hisvoiceisslowandmeasured.Hebreakseyecontactasafewdropletsofrainsprinkleoverus.Ihadn’tnoticedthecloudscomingin.
Withinseconds,thedarkskyopensupwithacrackofominousthunder.Raincascadesoverus.It’scold,fallinginicysheets.
Myhandbeginstoshiveraroundthenow-wet,slicktreebranch.Ipracticallybegintohyperventilateastherainsplattersoffme.“No,Ican’tletgo.”
“You’llbeokay.I’mnotgoingtoletyoufall.Youjusthavetogivemeyourhand.We’regoingtogodowntogether.”
“No.I’mgoingtodieuphere.I’mokaywithit.Iacceptit.TellmyfamilyIlovethem.PlayLizzoatmyfuneral,”Iorder.Iclampmyeyesshutagainasfat,juicydropletsseepundermylids,renderingmehalfblind.I’mofficiallyconvincednaturehasitinforme.
“Alright.Whichsong?‘Tempo’seemsfuneral-appropriate.”HecracksthefirstsmileI’veseenoutofhimallday
Ibrieflyflashhimthestinkeye.“Yeah.IfyouwanttogiveGrandmaFloaheartattack.”
“Crys,you’renotgoingtodie.”
“Iam.”
“You’renot.Doyoutrustme?”
Thatisthequestion,isn’tit?Technically,I’mstillsketchedoutaboutthattwoa.m.phonecall,aswellashisweirdmoodtoday.ButIdotrusthim,withmylife.Iknowhewon’tletmefalltomydeath.SoImakeapacttomyself.Onthecountofthree,I’llletgoofthisbranchandstepdown.
One.
Two.
Three.
Hishandwrapsaroundmine,fillingmewithwarmthandcomfortdespitethecoldrainpeltingus.
Climbingthetreewasfast,butmydescentistwiceasfastontheladder.Hestrokesmynow-drippinghairandprattlesoncasually,asifI’mnotbeingrescuedfromatreebyamemberoftheBostonFireDepartment.SomethingabouthowAlbusDoodledoreatehisnewliftingshoes.Truthfully,I’mnotreallylistening,becauseI’mtoobusyfreakingtheheckoutwitheachterrifyingstepdownthisrickety-assladder.
Idon’tdareopenmyeyesuntilScottwhispersthatwe’rebackontheground.Whenthedecrepitbarncomesintoview,IrealizeI’mclutchinghimaroundthetorsosohardIcanfeelhisribs.Hehastofirmlyprymyhandawayfromhimtoloosenmygrip.Myfingernailshaveprobablyleftpermanentindentsalloverhisabdomen.Yes,despitetheterror,Ishamelesslytakefulladvantageofthispoorexcusetotouchhim.
“Jesus,you’vebeenworkingonyourgripstrength.Youalmostbrokemyribs,”hetellsmethroughclenchedteeth.
“I’msorry.”
“Don’tbesorry.”Hiseventonecalmsmeslightly.“ButwhydidyoutrytoclimbthattreewhenItoldyounotto?Couldn’tyouhavejustwaitedformetofindtheladder?”
Iuntanglemyarmsfromhim,takingastepbacktoshootawistfulglanceatthelanternsswayingintherain.AtleastImadeavaliantefforttosaveGrandmaFloafewdollars.“Iwasdesperate.”
“Don’tworry.We’llfindothers.Let’sgetoutoftherain.”
Bythetimewereachmycar,we’reutterlysoaked.
TheseatsquishesasScottleansin,crankingtheheat.“GladIgottohangoutwithyoutoday,evenifyoualmostbrokeyourneck.”Thesoothingsoundofhisvoiceinmyeardoessomethingtomybody.Everythingtensesandprickles,andI’mprettysureit’snotjustthechillofmywetclothes.
Ileanmyforeheadagainstthesteeringwheelforamomentbeforeturningthewindshieldwiperstofullspeed.“I’manidiot.Thanksforrescuingme.Ishouldn’thavedonethat.”
WhenIlookup,hegivesmeasmallshrug,asiftosay,Shithappens.
“Stillupforanextra-longmovietonight?”Iask,backingoutofthelaneway.Theotherday,he’dagreedtolosinghisTitanicvirginity.Apparently,he’sneverseenthemovieinfull.Likeatypicalboy,he’sonlyeverwatchedthescenewhereJackpaintstoplessRoselikeOneofHisFrenchGirls.
Iexpecthimtosayno,butsurprisingly,henods.“Yeah,Iam.”
Iwhite-knucklethesteeringwheel,unabletocontainmyinvadingworries.“Yousure?Becauseyou’vebeenweirdwithmeallday.”
Hegivesmyshoulderareassuringsqueeze.“I’msure,Crys.Iwouldn’twanttobewithanyoneelsetoday.”
???
MYAPARTMENTBUILDINGisquiet,saveforthesqueakoftheoriginalhardwoodunderneathourwetsteps,andthedropletsofwaterricochetingoffthehallwayflooroutsidemydoor
MychestheavesasIwringmyhairout,aswellasmydressandjacket,bothofwhicharenowpressedtomelikeasecondskin.
Scottdoesn’tbothertowringhisclothesout.Hejustwatchesme,foreheadcreased,asifhewantstosaysomething
WhenIleanagainstthedoor,hetakesastepforward,closingthedistancebetweenus.Iletoutashakybreathwhenhesetshispalmonthedoorbesidemyhead.Hiseyesdriftfrommyfaceanddownward.
“Doyouwantmetodryyourclothesbeforewestartthemovie?”Iask,breakingtheawkwardsilence.
Hiseyesreachmineagain.“Yeah.Thanks.”
Weheadinside.Saveforthebeamoflightfromthestoveilluminatingthekitchen,thelivingroomisemptyanddark,whichtellsmeTara’sonnightshift.Ourclothessquishashefollowsmedownthehallwaytowardthecloset,whichcontainsmystackedwasheranddryer.
Witheachstep,myheartratequickensatthemerethoughtofusstrippingoutofourwetclothes.It’sbeatingsoloudly,I’mconvincedScottcanhearit
Ihaltandhecrashesintomybacksideuponmyabruptstop.“Ihavenothingforyoutowearinthemeantime.”Mywordscomeoutshaky,notjustbecauseI’mshivering,butfromthemereproximityofhimandthehardnessofhischestpracticallyflushagainstme.
Silencelingersbeforehespeaksovermyshoulder.“True.Noworries.I’llheadhomeandchange.”Iexpecthimtobackaway,buthedoesn’t.
Iacheatthethoughtofhimleavingrightnow.Idon’tthinkIcouldphysicallylethim,nomatterhowloudmylogicscreamsStop.
Thankstoacompletelackofself-control,Ibackintohim.Iexpecthimtobackawayandremindmewe’renotallowedtotouch.Buthedoesn’t.Hereadilyacceptsme,pullingmetightagainsthischest,asifheneedsmethere.Warmthfillsmeeverywhere,tothepointthatI’mnolongershiveringfromtherain.
Westaylikethisinthehallwayforafewbreathsashenuzzleshisfaceintomyneck.Hepressesatrailofsmall,prohibitedkissesontomyshoulderbeforehespinsmearoundsowe’reface-to-face.
Ourgazesconnect,searching,beforeIdissolveintoapuddleonthefloor.Heglideshisfingertipsupanddownmyspine.Heleanshisforeheadagainstmine,justashedidinthefiretruck.
“Ihaveaconfession,”hesays.
Igulp,bracingmyselffortheworst.“What?”
“IfIdon’tkissyouinfiveseconds,I’mgonnaloseit,”hetellsmeinalowwhisper.
Ithinkoftheruleswe’reabouttobreak.Literallyeverysingleonewe’veevermade.ThosethoughtshoverforallofonesecondbeforeIbanishthemtothemurkydepthsofmymind.Goodbye,logic.Youwon’tbemissed.
Iglanceupwardtomeethisfierygaze.“Thendoit.”
Ihaven’tevenfinishedsayingitwhenhismouthcollideswithmine.chaptertwenty-three
HISLIPSMEETminewithzerohesitation.
Whenhesighsintomymouth,itfeelslikerelief,likeheneedsthislong-overdueconnectionasmuchasIdo.Ihungrilypresscloser,slidingmytongueagainsthis.Ourmouthsopenandcloseagainsteachotherinanagonizinglyslowrhythm.Histongueexploresmymouthpatiently,asifwe’regoingtobehereallnight.Andmaybeweare.
Hisfingertrailsmyspine,curvingovermybottom.ThemomentIletoutamoaninresponse,aswitchflips.Ourkissesmeethungrily,withforceandintensity.Hetasteslikethepeachdrinkhewasdrinkinginthecar.Apparently,that’smycurrentfavoriteflavor,becauseI’msuckingandtasting,wantingeverythingfromhim.Hemeetsmydemandsattheready,fillingandclaimingmewithhismouth.
We’reinamarathonoftongues,teeth,andgrindingagainsteachotherinthehallwaybeforewefinallygatherthewherewithaltomoveintomybedroom,peelingoffourwetclothingaswego.
AsIbegintoshimmyhiswetT-shirtupward,hestillsagainstmymouth,hesitating.Hiseyessearchmyface,asifbattlingbetweenwhatwewantandtherules.“Arewereallydoingthis?Breakingtheconditions?”
Ireassurehimbypracticallyclawingthefabricoverhisheadtorevealtheartworkthatishisglorioussix-pack.“Please.”
Hepauses.“Eventhoughwearen’twaiting,youknowhowmuchIcareaboutyou,right?”
Ieyehim,unabletostopmyselffromrelishingthis.“Icareaboutyou…somuchitscaresme,”hecontinues.
Hisfingerstracemyjawline,hoveringovermylips.“Ithinkaboutyouallthetime.Everyday,allday.AllIeverwanttodoisbewithyou.Evenifwearen’tdoinganythingatall.”Hiseyesarethecolorofapondfilledwithlilypads,floatingpeacefullyalongthewater’ssurface.Hedoesn’tappearnervousintheslightest.
Ibarelyhavetimetomutteralame“Ithinkaboutyouallthetimetoo”beforehepressesakissonmylipsandtugsmywetdressovermyhead.
Whenmydresspoolstotheflooratmyfeet,mybreathhitches.EventhoughIlovemybody,I’vealwaysbeenshyaroundothers,especiallyguys.ButinfrontofScott,Ifeelentirelybeautiful.
Everyinchofmyskinvibratesashisfingerskimstheedgeofmyjaw,downmyneck,overtheslopeofmybreasts,downthecurvesofmystomach,curlingaroundtohookattheedgeofmylacepanties.
Ifeelcherished,worshipped,andcaredforinawayIneverhavewithanyoneelse.Inthismoment,Iknowthisisright,regardlessofreboundsandintertwinedfamilies.
“You’reperfect.Everypartofyou,”hewhispers.Hisvoiceisroughashiseyesroamdownward,drinkingmein,adoringmefullyandcompletely.Icantellhowmuchhemeansitbythewayhelooksatme.
Hecupsmycheekswithbothhands,hislipscrashingdownoverminewithintensityandpassion.Mytongueslidesbackintothenewlyfamiliarcomfortofhismouthbeforehesinkstohisknees,graspingthebacksofmythighsbeforehislipsmaketheirwaydownmystomach.Hepullsmypantiesdownswiftly,seeminglylosingrestraintbeforehestandsagain,toweringoverme,treatingmetotheperfectviewofhisabs,shiningfromtherainwater.
IhavenoideahowI’mevenstillupright,becausemyentirebodyiscompleteliquidunderhisfingers.Touchingmyselfinfrontofhiminthebathtubwashot,buttheheatofhisactualskinisaninferno.Whenthebacksofmycalveshittheedgeofmybed,heslowlylowersusdown,losinghispantsandboxersalongtheway,corroboratingMel’sBigDickEnergyhypothesisonceandforall.
Hisforearmsrestoneithersideofmyheadashislipsmeetminewithabandon.Thenhestillsovermeforamomentasthesteadydrumofourheartssyncs,fasterandfaster.Hislipsjourneydownmyneck,pastmybreasts,overthehillofmystomach,allthewaydown.Hepushesmylegsapart,teasinghistonguearoundmyinnerthighsbeforeslippinghisfingersintome,histhumbdancingandcirclingoutside.Ishudderasourmoanscollidetogether,myhandclaspingthesheets.
Everythingisspinning.Themomenthesmoothshistongueagainstme,Iloseitcompletelyinhimandallthewayshemakesmefeel.Mybackarchesupwardasheholdsmedownagainstthemattress.
Myfingersclenchhishair,pullinghimascloseaspossibleashecontinuestoswirlaroundandaroundwiththeperfectamountofpressure.WhenIfeelthevibrationofhisguttural,primalgroanagainstme,everythinggoeswhite.Crashing.Pulsating.Waveafterwave.Icouldn’ttellanyonemyname,myage,orwhereIaminthismoment.
BythetimeI’mreadytoopenmyeyesagain,he’shoveringoverme,kissingmeagain,gentlerthistime.Imoanwhenhepullsaway,wantingnothingbuthimclosetomefortherestofmylife.
Imeetthesafetyofhisgazeagain.Hestillsontopofme,jawtightinawaythattellsmehe’slosingallcontrol.Iwanttobetheonetopushhimovertheedge,totesthim,andmostimportantly,showhimhowbadlyI’vewantedthis.
Itdawnsonmethatweneedacondom.Myupperhalfdivessidewaysforthesidetabletograbone.Whenmyfingersfindapacket,Ipracticallywhipitathim.Helaughs,catchingitbeforerippingitopen.HeslidesitonfasterthanI’veeverseenamando.
Brushingthewaywardhairsfrommyface,hepressesasoftkissovermybeautymarkashereachesdowntopartmythighsagain.Heholdsmygaze.“Areyousure?”
AllIcandoisnod,distractedattheimpressivesightofhim.
“Ididn’thearyou.Tellmelouder,”hecommands,notbreakingeyecontact.
“Ifyou’renotinmewithinfiveseconds,I’mgoingtoloseit,”Iwarnhim,parrotinghisownwordsbacktohim.
Hegrins,swiftlyhookingoneofmylegsaroundhiswaist.Iopenmylegsslightlywidertoguidehimin.Hepushesintomeachinglyslowly,exactlythewayhekisses.Heslidesininchbyinch,movingbackouteversoslightly,almostteasing.WhenImoveagainsthim,signalingIwantmoreofhim,hefillsmecompletely.
Heshuddersovermewhenhefeelsmeadjustandcloseinaroundhim.Hebrusheshisthumbovermycheekandovermylips.Irunmyfingersgreedilyovertheridgesofhisback,diggingmynailsinthedeeperhegoes.
“Holyshit.Youfeelsogood.”Heglidesinandout,hisbreathlikehotwavesagainstmyneck.
It’smorethanhowgoodthisfeels.It’showhelooksatme,allofme,washingawayallmyworriesandfears.It’showhegetsme,knowingexactlywhatIwantbeforeIvocalizeit.I’veneverfeltconnectedwithsomeonelikethisbefore.It’sacompletenessI’veneverexperienced.AfullnessthattellsmeI’llneverfeelemptyagainwhenitcomestothisman.
Witheachmovement,ourbodiesslidetogetherliketwopiecesofthesamepuzzle,joiningandmelding.Inthismoment,Idon’tknowhowIcouldeverbewithouthimagain.
Aswefindtheperfectrhythm,movingfasterandhardertogether,henevertakeshiseyesfromme.Heneverstopscommunicatingwithme,tellingmehowbeautifulIamorhowgooditfeels.Andwhenhetellsmehe’sclose,myentirebodyunspoolsbeneathhim,overtheedge,pastthepointofnoreturn.
???
IWAKEUPTOtheawfulhissing,sputteringsoundthekitchenfaucetmakeswhenthehotwaterisrunning.Ipressthepadsofmyindexandmiddlefingerstomyeyes.WhenIextendmylegsunderthecovers,there’sadullacheeverywherebelowthewaist.ItfeelslikeI’vedoneakillerlegday.
Irubthesleepoutofmyeyes,crackingthemopenonlyslightlytotakeinthestreamoflightburstingthroughthespaceinmyblindsIalwaysmakeanotetofixbutneverdo.
WhydoIfeellikeanineteen-year-oldthemorningafterawildragerwhereItookdowntoomanytequilashotsoffthebodiesofstrangers?Ididn’tevendrinklastnight.
ThefaintsoundofTara’slaughandthedeep,gravellyvoicethatprompteditechofrombehindmybedroomdoor.Igriptheduvetwithaclenchedfistwhentherealizationcrashesoverme.
Stuckintree.Coldrain.Breakingalltherulesinthebook.Mind-blowingsex.WithScott.
Thememorycomesbackfullforce,likeanultra-HDmovie.Iremembereverything.Howhelookedatmelikehetrulygaveashit.Thedeliciouslysweettasteonhislips.Howhetouchedmewithsuchprecision,asifwe’dbeentogetherforyears.Hisroughvoicewhenhetoldmehecouldn’twaitanylonger.Andhowunapologeticallyloud,masculine,andgutturalhesoundedwhenhefinallylethimselfgo.
Wefellasleepafterthefirsttime.Thenwewokeupagainanhourlaterandhadsexagaintomakeupforlosttime.Itwasslower,withmeontop.Wetookourtime,memorizingeveryinchofeachother’sbodies,rockinginaneartantricrhythm,notwantingthewindowofblisstoend.Whenitwasover,hewrappedmeinthesafetyofhisbigarms,hisembracegivingmeanoverwhelmingpeaceI’veneverexperiencedbefore.
There’saloudvibrationonmysidetablewhichinterruptsmyincessantfondmemories.Isigh,rollingoutofthecomfortofmycocoontocheckmyphone.Isquintatmyscreen.AtextmessagefromDiana.
Mystomachbottomsout.TheblissfultinglesflitteringaroundmybodyallbutdisappearwhenIregistertheunfamiliarfeelofthisphone.
Thisisn’tmytackybedazzledphonecase.
It’snotmyphonepluggedintomycharger.It’sScott’s.chaptertwenty-four
MYTHROATCONSTRICTS.I’mentirelyfrozen.Fromhislockscreen,whichisapreciousphotoofasmilingAlbusDoodledore,Ican’tseewhatshe’stextedhim.Ihoveroverthescreen,itchingtotypeinhispassword,whichhe’sreadilyadmittedishisbirthyear.
Iflexmyfingers,willingmyselftodoit.ButIpullback.Ican’tbringmyselftosnoopthroughhisphone.Itfeelslikeamassiveinvasionofhisprivacy.Andtobefrank,I’mterrifiedofpotentiallyunlockingthebrutaltruth.
Istareathernameforafewmoremoments,blinkingindisbeliefuntilIlosemyresolveandcreeponDiana’ssocialmediafrommyownphone.
Andthat’swhenIseeit,onTwitter.
DianaTisdale—Boston,howI’vemissedyou!Happytobehome.Dianaisback.
InBoston.
Thetweetisfromaweekandahalfago.TheverysamenightScottreceivedthemysteriousphonecall.
IscourherInstagram,searchingforatinygrainofevidencethatcanhelpmeputthepiecestogether.However,Dianahasonlypostedtwophotossinceherreturn,neitherofwhichgivemeanyclueatall.
Noneofthismakessense.ItrustScottwitheverythingIhave.I’veputmyselfoutthere.I’veshownandtoldhimhowmuchIwanthim.I’vesleptwithhimtwomonthsearlierthanintended.Andnowthis?
AsmuchasIdon’twanttobelievehe’shidingthefactthatthey’rebackintouch,thistextandallhisweirdbehaviortellsmeotherwise.Mymindraceswiththepossibilities.Aretheygettingbacktogethernowthatshe’sbackintown?Oraretheyjusttalkingcasually?Itdoesn’tmakemuchsense,giventhatScottclaimsthey’renolongerfriends.Whatcouldhavepossiblyhappeneduponherreturnthatwouldlaunchhimintosuchanawfulmoodyesterday?
ItfeelsliketheNeilsituationalloveragain.Weeksbeforewebrokeup,IbegantosuspectNeilhadresumedtalkingtoCammieaftertheyeachpostedphotosfromthesamecoffeeshop.IonlyknowthisbecauseIwentfull-blownCSIonthephotos.HaveIreallybeenhoodwinkedasecondtime?
Aftertenminutesofstewing,unsurehowtoplayitwithScottnowthatthistextcannotbeunseen,Ifinallygarnertheenergytothrowonabaggysweaterandleggingsandstumbleintothebathroom.Luckily,myfaceisn’tsmudgedfullofmascaraandblotchyfoundationasitwouldhavebeeninmycollegedays.I’mbarefaced.Mylipsareredandswollen,andIhaveanobvious,violethickeyontherightsideofmyneck.
BythetimeIroundthecornerintothekitchen,Scottisstandinginfrontofthestoveinhisdriedclothesfromyesterday,asifhe’smeanttobehere.Asifthisisausualmorning.I’mnotsurprisedhe’soneofthosepeoplewhowakeuplookingflawless,withonlyslightlytousledhairasevidenceofhisstatusasameremortal.Ibitemylip,recallinghowsoftitfeltinbetweenmyfingerslastnight.
TaraisbeingTara,stillinherscrubsfromthenightshift,casuallyspectatingfromthekitchentableasScottcookseggsinthelargeskillet.
Ibracemyselffortheawkwardmorning-afterinteraction.Instead,Scottactuallylightsupwhenheseesme.“She’salive.”Heflashesmeaneasysmile,asifwedidn’tjustspendhoursconnectedtogetherinmorewaysthanone.
IthinkabouttheR-ratedsoundshemadelastnight.WillIeverforgetthem?Willtheyreplayinmymindlikemyfavoritesoundtrack(ofalltime)everysingletimeIseehim?
“Hi,”Icroak.Againstmybetterjudgment,Iunearththeill-advisedjazz-handswave.
“Scottmadeyoubreakfast.Scrambledeggswithnomilk.”Taragivesmeasupremelysatisfiedsmile.Fromthewildlookinhereyes,she’sdefinitelyfightingtheurgetoshoutItoldyousoatthetopofherlungs.Ihavenoideawhattimeshereturnedfromworklastnight,butIknowthatthewallsinmyapartmentareanythingbutthick.
Mortified,mygazeflickersbacktothepan.“Really?Youhatescrambledeggs.”
Heshrugs.“Iknow,butyoulikethem.”MyheartpracticallycombustsandI’mtemptedtoforgetallaboutthattext.
Aheavysilencefillsthekitchenasheplatestheeggs.Thisshouldbeperfect.Hehasn’tpeacedoutintothedarkofnightthemomenthecrawledoffme.He’sstuckaroundtocookmebreakfast.Ishouldbesmilinglikealoonrightnow,butallIcanthinkaboutisDiana’stext.
Taraclearsherthroat.“I’m,uh,goingtomyroom,”sheannounces,shufflingofftogiveussomespace.Ican’tdecidewhetherI’mgratefulorhorrified.
Scottholdsoutaplateandforkinhisextendedhand.Istareathishandsforamoment,andthenhislips,recallingtheirexceptionaltalent.Infact,mybodyowesthempublicrecognitionplaquesfortheirservice,innovation,leadership,andstellarinitiative.
Dazed,Itaketheplateandpierceaclumpofeggswithmyfork,standingbesidehim.Justlikelastnight,hisbodyradiatesheat,andI’mdrawntoitlikeaflytoshit.
Heleansbackagainstthecounter.“Youokay?”
Iblinkupathiminrapidsuccession,willingawaythetoo-recentmemoryofourbodiestangledtogether,satisfyingeachother’sneedswillingly,withoutjudgmentorrestraint.Ineedtocallhimout.Rightnow.ButIchickenout.
Myexpressionhardensthelongerhelooksatme,becauseIknowwhyhehunguponmetheothernight.Iknowwhyhewasinanawfulmoodyesterday,gluedtohisphone.Ineedtoaskhimaboutit,butIdecidetobroachoneelephantatatime.
Itiltmyheadknowingly,dry-swallowingthelumpinmythroat.“Wehadsex.Twomonthsearly.”
Hisfacedoesn’tchange.Infact,itstaysflat.“Wait—what?”
Igostillforamomentbeforethecornersofhislipsturnupintoadevioussmile.Iswathimonthearm.“You’resuchadick.”
Heletsoutalowchuckle.“Sorry,thatwasabadjoke.”Hepausesforamoment.“Actually,Ifeellikeanasshole.Ishouldn’thaveletitgothatfar.”
Ican’ttellwhathe’sthinking,especiallynowthatIknowhe’sbackintouchwithhisex.Andit’sdrivingmeinsane.Soinsane,tothepointofinsecurity.“Itwasokay,right?Lastnight?”
Hedoesn’trespondrightaway.Infact,hissmiledisappearsintograyneutrality.It’sstillcompletelyunreadable
Fuckmylife.Ilovedit.Hehatedit.Inearlypulledmyhamstringfornothing.AllIwanttodoiscrawlintoaballandremainmotionless.
Finally,hissmilereturns.“Okay?You’dratethatasjustokay?”
“No.Itwasgood.Reallygood.Wasitforyoutoo?”Icovermyfacewithmyhands,peekingthroughthecracksbetweenmyfingers.
Hecockshisneckback.“Areyoukiddingme?Lastnightisingrainedinmymemory.Etchedintoasacredstonetablet.”
Ican’thelpbutsnort,handtostomach.Itisn’tsexyintheslightest,butI’mrelievedbeyondmeasure.Iwasn’tflyingsololastnightonmyjourneytoheavenafterall.
Hetakesmyplateandsetsitgentlyonthecounterbeforewrappinghisarmsaroundme,pullingmeintohiswarmchest.Inestlemyheadagainsthim,tryingtocapturethismoment.Iwanttorememberhowitfeelstobeinhisarms.Itakeinhismuskyscent,which,evenafterafullnightofseriouscardio,isstillalluringassin.Irevelinthesecurityofhismusclyarmsenvelopingmewithjusttherightamountofsqueeze.Nottightenoughtocrunchmybonesandlooseenoughtowrigglefree.
Westaylikethis,rockingbackandforthinthekitchen,beforeIfinallycometomysenses.Ican’tpretendIdidn’tseethetext,asmuchasIwishIcould.Thiscan’tlast.Thisisn’treality.Ican’ttiptoearoundthisanylonger.
Ishrinkoutofhisarms.It’scoldwithouthisbodyheat.Instinctively,Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyself.Frankly,it’sapoorsubstitute.“Scott…”
“Yeah?”
“IknowaboutDiana.”
Hisjawtightensashefrownsatme.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Iknowshe’sbackintown.Iknowyou’retalkingtoheragain.”
Herunshishandthroughhisthickhair.“I’mnottalkingtoher,Crys.”
“Thenwhyisshetextingyou?Ididn’tmeantoseeit…Ithoughtitwasmyphone.”
Hesighs.“Shetextedmetheotherday,sayingshewascomingbacktotownandwantedtocomegetanecklacesheleftatmyplace.That’sliterallyit.Shewassupposedtogetitlastnight…butIobviouslywasn’thome.InevermentioneditbecauseIhonestlydidn’tgiveitasecondthought.”
Islow-blink,registeringhiswords.“So,nothingisgoingonbetweenyouguysnowthatshe’sback?”
“YoureallythinkIwouldcheatonyouwithher?Aftereverything?”
“WhatamIsupposedtothink?Wearen’ttechnicallytogether.Youcoulddoanythinganditwouldn’treallybecheating.”
Hesidestepsawayfromme.“ItoldyouIwouldn’tseeanyoneelse.”
“HowcanIbelieveyou?You’rebeingsosketchywithme.Itdoesn’tmakesense.Ifshejusttextedyouforanecklace,whywereyouactingsomoody?”
Hereachesforward,cuppingmycheekswithhismassivehands.“I’mtellingyou,ithasnothingtodowithDiana.”Hisshouldersslump,whichtellsmehe’sattheendofhisrope.
“Thenwhatisit?”
Hestiffens,lettinghishandsfalltohissides.“Ican’ttellyou.”
Ilaughmanicallyoutofpurefrustration.“That’shighlyconvenient.”Howonearthdoesheexpectmetotrusthimwhenherefusestoenlightenmeonwhateverthisdeep,darksecretis?
Hebowshishead.“Iknowitsoundsridiculous.”
“Thentellme.Please.Isitbad?”
Hetakesinadeepbreathandletsitoutslowly,asifchoosinghiswordscarefully.“You’regoingtohateme.”
MystomachtwistsasItakeinhiswateryeyes.Thisisbad.AndtryasImight,Ifailtoscroungeupanypossibilitiesinmyhead.“Scott,tellme.”
“Mygrandpamightbesick.”
Iblink.“Sick?Whatdoyoumean,sick?”
“Hehasn’tbeenfeelingwellforthelastfewweeks.That’sthephonecallIgot.HeneededsomeonetobringhimtotheER.”
Iexhaleloudly,handpressedtomychest.I’mlight-headed.ThankgodScotthasfedme,orI’dhavepassedout.
“Theyransometestsandtheyfoundatumor.Hehastogobacktofindoutifit’scancerous.MymomandIarebringinghimthisafternoon.”
Cancer.Thewordechoesinmymind,bouncingaround,tauntingmelikeanout-of-controlPing-Pongball.Thesamediseasethatkilledmygrandpa.Andnow,itcouldbehappeningalloveragaintoMartin.MyheartisbrokenforScottandhisfamily,whoarenowkindofmyfamilytoo.WhenIthinkaboutthemhavingtoendurethepainoflosingMartin,thesamewaywelostmygrandpa,Iwanttoscream.
Andthentherealizationhitsme.“Thisiswhyyouweresuddenlyadamantthatwetakethingsslow.Isn’tit?”
Henods.“Icouldn’tmoveforwardknowingIwashidingthatfromyou.That’swhyMartintoldmetocoolitwithyou.Untilweknewforsure.”
“Butwhydidyoukeepthisfromme?DoesFloknow?”Idemand.
Heshakeshishead.“No.Hedoesn’twanthertoworryfornothing.That’swhyIcouldn’ttellyou.HemademeswearIwouldn’t.”
Theangerbubblesintomythroatlikebile.Myfamilywouldneverkeepsecretslikethis.We’dgetthroughittogether,justaswedidwithGrandpathemomentwefoundouthisdiagnosis.“Becauseyoudidn’ttrustmetokeepasecret?”Realistically,IknowforafactInevercouldhavekeptthatfrommyfamily.ButI’mfuriousnonetheless.
Hedipshischininregret.“Icouldn’taskyoutokeepsuchahugesecretfromFlo.Iknewthatwoulddestroyyou.”
MymindspinsatthethoughtofGrandmaFlo’sfacewhenshefindsout.Iholdmyhandoutinfrontofme,preventinghimfromcomingcloser.Ican’tevenlookathimrightnow.“Scott,pleaseleave.”
Hisfacetwists,pained.“Iwantedtotellyousobadly.Itoldmygrandpathiswasn’trightandthatheneededtotellFlotoday.BeforeIbringhimtothespecialist—”
Iholdmyhandouttosignalhimtostop.“Please.Ineedspacerightnow.”AsmuchasIwanttoholdhimandtakeawayallhishurt,allIcanthinkaboutisGrandmaFloandhowdevastatedshe’sgoingtobe.Ineedtobethereforher,rightnow.
Scottnods,takingonelastdejectedlookatmebeforeheopensthefrontdoor.“I’msosorry,Crys.”chaptertwenty-five
WE’REONTHEwaythere,”ItellGrandma.
ThemomentScottleft,TarabolteddownthestairsintearsafteroverhearingmyconfrontationwithScott.SheandIcontemplatedgoingtoGrandmaFlo’shouseimmediately,butdecidedagainstit,incaseMartinhadn’ttoldheryet.Luckily,Grandmacallednotlongaftertoinformusshewasgoingtothehospitaltoawaittheresults.
WhileTaraandIarebothangryaboutbeingkeptinthedark,ourfeelingshardlyseemtomatter,giventhecircumstances.AsbadlyasMartinhandledthesituation,hisobnoxious,loudselfhasgrownonmeimmenselyinthepasttwomonths.
HeandScottaresomuchalikeinsomeways,it’salmostcreepy.Atfamilygatherings,they’rethelasttotakefood,waitingforeveryoneelsetoservethemselvesfirst.They’reboththoughtful,rememberingsmall,seeminglyinnocuousdetailsabouteveryone’slives.They’llbothgotoanylengthstoprotecttheirfamilies,evenifitmeanskeepingsecrets.TheverythoughtoflosingMartin,howeverstrangeandnewhemaybetothefamily,issomethingIcan’tentertaininmyheadforlongerthanafractionofasecondwithoutbeingovercomewithdread.
Drivingtothehospital,findingaparkingspot,andlocatingthemonthecorrectfloorisacomplicated,blurryendeavor.ButIknowwe’reintherightplacewhenInearlycollidewithGrandmaFloandMomasIenterawaitingarea.
TherearemassivepurplebagsunderGrandma’sweepyeyes.She’sslouched,pale,andoverallworn.Itremindsmeofthelong,difficultmonthswhenGrandpawasgoingthroughchemotherapy.Shebarelyateorslept.I’mprettysuretheawfulexperienceprematurelyagedherbyyears.It’sbeyondcruelthatshemayhavetogothroughthisalloveragain.
“PatriciaandScottyareinthedoctor’sofficewithhimnow,”GrandmasaysasTarasorrowfullyembracesher.
“Howareyoudoing?”Iaskasagroupofnursesrushespastdownthewhite,sterilehallway.
“Alright.”Hereyesaretearyasshemotionsforustositintheuncomfortablewaitingroomchairs.Likemosthospitals,itsmellsfaintlyofbodyodoranddisinfectant.It’srelativelyquietonthisfloor,saveforrandomdistantbeeping,hushedchatter,andthelittlegirlgigglingonhermom’slapacouplechairsover.
“Whendidhetellyou?”Taraasksaswetakeourseats.
“Hecamebyearlierthismorningandtoldmeovercoffee,”shesaysneutrally,makingitdifficulttodeterminehowshe’sfeelingaboutit.
Igiveherasympatheticgaze.“Areyoumadhedidn’ttellyouuntiltoday?”
“Iam.We’remeanttogetmarriednextmonth,moveintogether.”Grandma’slipstightenasshefidgetswithhergoldcharmbracelet.“ButthenIthink,what’sthepoint?Idon’thavetimetobeangryaboutstufflikethisatmyage.Hehadthebestofintentions,evenifhewaswrong.”
Itakeinherwordsastherealizationwashesoverme—Scott’shadtocarrythisburdenfornearlytwoweeks.Nowonderhe’sbeenmoodyanddistant.Itisn’thisfaultMartinaskedhimtolieonhisbehalf,wrongasitwas.Hewasinanimpossibleposition,forcedtochoosebetweenhisfamilyandhisnewrelationship.HadIbeenintheverysamesituationwithGrandmaFlo,Irealisticallywouldhavemadethesamechoice:family.
Icrossanduncrossmylegsamilliontimesastheminutespass,eyesfocusedmindlesslyonthelocalnewsreelontheTV.I’mbarelydigestinganything,becausenothingelseseemstomatterrightnow.
GrandmaandMomareinandoutoftheirseats,tryingtobusythemselvesbypacingthehallway.TaraisreadingquietlyonherKindle.Iwonderifshe’sevenprocessinganywords.Fromthewayherkneeisbouncingupanddown,sheappearsasanxiousasIam.
Afteroveranhour,thefatiguefromlastnightwithScott,combinedwiththeemotionalrollercoasterthatwasthismorning,finallybeginstosinkin.Despitethelackofcomfortableseating,Ifoldmylegsoverthearmofthechairandmanagetoclosemyeyes.
???
“YOULOTLOOKlikeyou’reatafuneral.”Martin’sfamiliar,boisterousvoicesnapsmeoutofsleep.
AsIrubmyeyes,plantingbothfeetbackontheground,hisfigurelumbersintothewaitingarea.He’ssmilinglikehe’smerelyhereforanannualphysical.Onewouldthinkthatwouldmeangoodnews,butIgetthefeelinghe’sthetypewhowouldsmileeitherway.Todelayeveryone’spainforaslongashumanlypossible.
GrandmaFlonearlyknocksthecoffeetableoverassherushesintohisarms.“Isitcancer?”
Heembracesherwholeheartedlybeforegivingherasoftkissontheforehead.Thenheshakeshishead,castingatriumphantsmileatMom,Tara,andme.“It’sbenign.Thetumorisn’tcancerous.”
Theentireroomchangescolor.It’snolongerlifeless,blue,andvoidofhope.It’svibrant,sunny,andfulloflight.Thespacethatwassostuffyanddepressingjustsecondsagoissuddenlyalive,fueledbyeveryone’srelief.We’vebeengivenapricelessgift.Thegiftofmoretimewithsomeonewelove.
It’sagoodthingMartinhashisarmsaroundher,becauseGrandmaFlowouldhaveotherwisehitthefloor,facedrenchedwithablendofwhatIimaginearehappytearsandthepainfulmemoriesoflosingGrandpa.
ThetightnessinmystomachreleaseswhenIstandtohugMartin.Idon’tknowifI’veeverfeltmorethankfulforanythinginmylife.“I’msorry,Crystal,”hesays.
“Forwhat?”
Martinpullsbackregretfully,squeezingmyshoulders.“It’smyfault…whathappenedwithScotty.Pleasedon’tblamehim.Iaskedhimtolieanditwasanunfairrequest.Iseethatnow.”
“Iappreciatethat,”Isay,lettingoutamassivesigh,justasPatriciaandScottcomearoundthecorner.
Scottisstillinhissameclothesfromthismorning,whicharetechnicallythesameonesfromyesterday.Hiswavyhairlookslikeit’sbeenbrushedfivedifferentways,andhiseyesarebloodshot.
Hestopsacouplefeetinfrontofme,asifunsureofwhattodonext.“Youcame.”
Iwaitafewbeatsbeforepracticallylungingathimlikeaflyingsquirrel,desperatetobebackinhisarms.JustlikeMartindidwithFlo,Scottwrapshisarmsaroundme,tighterthanheeverhasbefore.Hisentirebodyseemstorelaxinourembrace.
Afterthisordeal,afterourfamilywasquiteliterallygrantedasecondchance,Ineverwanttolethimgo.Idon’tcarethatwegotintoamassivefight.Idon’tcareaboutthehurtfeelings.AndIdon’tcarethatwe’reinthemiddleofahospitalwaitingroomfullofonlookers.
“OfcourseIdid.I’msosorryforbeingsomadatyou,”Iwhisperintohisneck.
Heglosseshisthumbsovermycheeks,pressinghisforeheadtomine.“Inevershouldhavekeptthatfromyou.Itkilledmetodoit.”
“Scott,it’sokay.Iknow.”
“Isweartoyou,Iwillneverkeepsomethinglikethatfromyoueveragain.Icareaboutyousomuch—Idon’tevenknowwhattodowithmyself.Ican’tloseyou.”Hetugsmyhand,holdingittohischest.Thesteadydrumofhisheartvibratesagainstmypalm.It’sthemostrawandhonestmomentofmylife.
Ipracticallymeltintohim,becauseIbelievehimwholeheartedly.“Youwon’t.Ever,”Iwhisper,tracingmyfingeroverhisstubbledjaw.
Hiseyesflickertomylipsashedropshisforeheadtomineagain,tighteninghismusclyarmsaroundmylowerback,securingmetohim.HeletsoutalongsighasIrunmyhandsoverhisshoulders,uphisneck,andthroughhishair.
There’saheavinesstohisgaze,anditisn’tjustlust.It’soverwhelmingaffection.Theintensityofthemomentstealsmybreath,renderingmeputtyinhisarms.Iwanttocapturethislookandkeepitforever.
Igivehimasmallnodtocontinue,watchingastheincrediblereliefwashesoverhimbeforehedropshismouthandpresseshissoftlipstomine.
Everythinggoessilent.Thebeepsofthehospitalmachines,theurgentvoicesaroundus,andallthebrokenrulesandworriesofthepastfadeintoobscurityinthebackground.AllIcanhearisthegushofbloodflowingtomyearsaswestruggletopullourselvescloser,tonguesmeldinginamixtureofgentleandrough.Thereisnotwisterunleashinghavoc,tearingmyheartapart.Instead,hegroundsmeintoacalmstateofbeing.Anditmakesallthedifference
Ipullbackmomentarilytodrinkinhisgorgeouseyes.“ScrewAugustsixth?”
Hegivesmeawickedsmile.“ScrewAugustsixth,”herepeatsbeforecapturingmymouthagain.chaptertwenty-six
2:31P.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“SIZEPOSITIVECAMPAIGN—DEALINGWITHTHEHATERS”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Youguys!TheresponsetoSizePositivehasbeeninsane!!I’mSOgladthiscampaignhasresonatedwithsomanyofyouwhoarefindingjoyinditchingthescalesandbecomingmoreandmoreintunewithyourbodies.QUEENS.
Unfortunately,peoplearestilldicks.Therehasbeenanincreaseinassholesinthecomments,asI’msureyou’venoticed.Hereareacoupletipsonhowtodealwiththehaters:
1)Ignorethem—It’seasiersaidthandone.SometimesIrespondwhenIreallyfeelit’snecessarytosetsomeonestraight.Butrememberthey’rejustthirstingforattention.It’sbestnottogivethemthesatisfaction.
2)Theyhavenobearingonyourlife—Ifyousurroundyourselfwithgoodpeopleandagoodsupportsystem,thecommentofsomeidiotdoesn’tmatterinthelongrun.
3)Theyarethemiserableones—Darknessisattractedtolight.Peoplewhoaresadandtoxiccan’thandlewhenotherpeoplearehappyandsuccessful.Don’tletthemdragyoudown.
CommentbyMarleyYogaInstructor:You’resoright.Darknessisattractedtolightlikemothstoflames.Peoplewilldoanythingtodragothersdownintotheirownunhappiness.They’rejealous.
CommentbyStannerjr:hahahahhurpathetic.
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THEREISNOadequatewordtodescribethepastfewweekswithScott.Fantastic,amazing,blissful,wonderful,remarkable.NoneofthemproperlyencapsulatethekaleidoscopeoffeelingsthatreachinandtakeholdofmyentirebeingwhenI’mwithhim.
Thefeelingissimilartothatgiddy,post-workouthigh,exceptitdoesn’tdullthemomenttherunningshoescomeoffandyouresumenormallifeasareclusivecouchpotato.Themagiclingers,likesimmeringliquid.
It’stheeveningbeforeGrandmaFloandMartin’swedding,thedayweweresupposedtowaitfor.AndI’msogladwedidn’t.SincewefoundoutMartiniscancer-free,Scottstaysovereverynightheisn’tonnightshift.Albushappilythird-wheels.Heenjoysrunningatfulltiltonthecarpetinmyapartment.Apparently,hecan’trunwithoutslippingontheparquetfloorsatScott’splace.
ScottalsobringsmeboxesofclementinesontheconditionIpeelthemforhim.He’smadeaspecialLizzoSpotifyplaylistforwhenI’minhiscar.Mostmornings,hebringsmecoffeefromthelittlecafearoundthecornerfrommyapartmentinreturnforhealthy,meal-preppedlunches.
ButdespitepracticallyworshippingScott’sentirekindheartedandgeneticallygiftedbeing,I’mstillpettyandcompetitiveashell.Andsoishe.
We’redoingawarm-upcardiocircuitconsistingofaminuteandahalfofexhaustinghigh-knees.Liketheegotisticalalphamaleheis,hedoesn’tbothertohidethathe’stryingtooutdome.Typical.Welockeyesinachallenge,bothexertingwellpastthepointofarelaxedwarm-up.
Unfortunatelyforme,gravityisnotonmyside,despitemyultra-supportivesportsbra.UnlessIwantmyboobstoslapmeinthechin,Ican’tcontinueatthisspeed.“Thisissounfair.Myboobsareoutofcontrol.I’mgonnathrowoutmyback,”Ipant,comingtoafullstop.
Heleansagainstanearbycablemachinewithafauxinnocentexpression.“Babe,thisisn’tacompetition.”
Ilevelhimwithaknowingstare.“Itis.Youalwaysmakeitone.”
“Youdorealizeyou’rethecompetitiveone.I’mjusthere,goingataleisurelypace.Justenjoyingtheview.”
“Whatview?”
Heshrugs,greeneyesfallingtomychest.
Mymouthfallsopen.Thatbastard.
HisgrinisDisneyvillain–worthy.“ThefasterIwent,thefasteryou’dgo,andthehigherthey’dbounce…”
Ipretendtopunchhiminthechest,flustered.“You’rediabolical.”
Hegrabsmywristandpullsmeflushtohim,theheatofourbodiesmeldingtogether.Hegivesmeachastepeckonthenoseashepressesharderagainstme,sendingashivertomylowerbelly.“I’dprefergenius.”
Ibringmylipsoverhis,lettingmytongueexplorehimatalanguidpacethatisdefinitelynotappropriateforapublicgym.HeletsoutaheavysighasIpullawayabruptly,justtotorturehim.“Ineedtofilmmyworkout.Ifyou’llexcuseme.”Iflashanevilwinkovermyshoulderbeforesaunteringoff.
WhenIbegintofilmmydumbbellarmtutorial,hekeepshisdistance,knowingnottointerruptmemid-filmingforfearofmymightywrath.Instead,hesendsmeatext.
SCOTT:Doyoubelieveinloveatfirstset?OrshouldIdoanothertenreps?
CRYSTAL:Wow.
SCOTT:Newrule:youcan’twearthoseleggingsinfrontofmeanymore.
He’snowwatchingmefromtheothersideofthegymashehoistshimselfupward,danglingeffortlesslyfromthepull-upbar.Heproceedstoshowoffhissuperhumanstrength,doingsomefancyabworkoutinvolvingtwistinghislegsupintheaireverywhichwayinacontrolledmanner.
CRYSTAL:Nocando.Notafteryoutrickedmeintogivingyouashow.
SCOTT:Sorry.Noregrets.
CRYSTAL:AndI’veaskedyounicelynottoflexyourmusclesinfrontofmeeither,butyoudon’tlisten.Sotheleggingsarestaying.
SCOTT:Tease.
CRYSTAL:BythetimeI’mfinallysatisfiedwitheachsegmentofthevideo,there’sanewtextfromScottfromafewminutesago.
SCOTT:Needyourhelpinthechangingroom.
Itakestockofmysurroundings.Intheentiregym,thereisonlyawomanontheellipticalwatchingsomethingonheriPad,andayoungcoupletakingturnsonthewindowsquatrack.
ExcaliburFitnessgender-assignedchangingroomsbedamned.
IholdmybreathasIcreepintothemen’schangingroom,smilingtomyselfatthememoryofthelasttimeIwasinhere,underverydifferentcircumstances.
AsIslinkaroundthelockers,IspotScottman-splayingonthebench.He’sshirtless,rippedabsprominentandglisteningwithacoatofdewysweat.It’sacriticalpublicsafetyhazard.Nowondershirtsarerequiredbythegym’sdresscode.
Hegivesmeanincendiarylook,standingabruptlytopullmetothebackofthechangingroom,neartheshowers.I’mabouttoaskwhathe’sdoing,buthecoversmymouth.Henodstotheright,signalingthere’ssomeoneinoneoftheprivatechangingroomstalls.
Whenthestalldooropens,Scottswiftlypushesmeintotheshower,pullingthecurtaintoconcealus.We’restill,barelybreathingaswelistentotheman’sgruffvoice.Itsoundslikehe’sonthephone.“Whateverittakes,Janice.Idon’tcarewhatitcosts.Don’tforgetIboughtyouaBeamerforyourbirthday,”hegrumbles.
Weshakeinsilentlaughter.Theman’sconversationfadesashemovestowardthelockersinthefront.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iwhisper.
Scottrespondsbyclosinghislipsovermine,greedilytakingallmyair.Hepullsbackandplayfullytugsmyponytail.“WhatIwantedtodothedayyoufollowedmeinhereandaccostedme,”hewhispersbeforehislipsblazeahottraildowntomyneck.
Thethrillofbeinginhereandthepossibilityofgettingcaughtareaseriousturn-on.Iturntoliquidinstantly,myentirebodyvibratingwithanticipation,desperatelycravingwhathehastooffer.
Hiskissesareeagerasourtonguescollide.Hebitesmybottomlip,holdingitforasecondtoolongbeforeImoanintothesaltytasteofhismouth.Usually,hiskissesstartoffslow.Infact,Scottusuallystartseverythingslow.Theachingbuildupishisspecialty.Butthisisdifferent.Thisispureneed.
Hehookshisfingersunderthefabricofmytanktop,practicallytearingitovermyhead.Wemakequickworkriddingourselvesoftherestofourgymclothesandshoes.Assoonaswedo,herunstheshowertomufflethesoundswecan’tcontain.
Hisfingersmoveovereveryinchofmybody,latheringmewithsoap,dippingbetweenmylegs,massagingmeinamaddeningcircularmotion.MyheadfallsbackagainstthecoldtilewhenhisfingersbegintoloopexactlywhereI’machingforhim.WhenhemouthsYou’rebeautiful,thepleasuretriples,becauseIknowhemeansit.
Igrabhisfacewithbothhandsandpressmylipstohis,showinghimhowmuchIcareabouthimintheonlywayIcan.Ican’tphysicallyutterawordrightnow.Everythingcomesoutinsmall,undiscerniblemoans.
Hepresseshisfreefingertomymouth,tellingmesilentlytobequietasthesteambillowsaroundus.Inod,butmypromiseisbrokenthemomenthishandpressesharderagainstmycore.
“Fuck,”hewhispersinmyearashisfingerssmoothinandoutofme,torturouslyslow.
Inreturn,myhandsdancearoundthehard,impressiveridgesofhisback,hisstomach,anddown,strokinghislength.Irevelinthesightofhim,eyesstormyandwildwithpureneed,absclenchedandshakingindesperation.
Whenhecan’ttakemyhandanymore,hebringshislipstomyneck,pressingkissesallthewaydownmybody,untilhisfaceisrightwhereIwantit.Hesmoothshistongue,rollingitovermeinaperfectcircularmotion.Thenhebringsmylegup,deepeningtheangle.
Iclasphishair,stilltryingtomufflemyself,tostopfromcryingouthisname.Ithappensfast.Ifeelitcoming,crashing,tunnelingeverythingaroundmeuntilallIseeishim.
Whenit’sover,Scottcomesbackup,kissingmeagainbeforehepresseshimselftome.“You’regonnahavetobequietthistime.Promise?”hewhispers,movinghisthumbovermylips.
Inoddutifullyashedrivesinsideofmesounexpectedlyhardit’simpossibleformenottoscream.Heshudders,lettingoutagutturalgroanofhisownashepinsmywristsagainstthetilesabovemyhead.Hepullsmylegaroundhiswaisttohitmedeeper,buryinghimselfinsideme.
Purposefulforceandpassionjoinustogether,overandover,tothepointwhereIcan’tevenrememberhowitfeelstobewithouthim.He’ssomuchbetterthananyhope,dream,orfantasyIcouldconjureinmyhead.Andhe’sreal.
He’swhisperinghowbeautifulIam.Howmuchhedesiresmeeveryminuteoftheday.He’sherewithme,cementingalltheendlessreasonshe’sstolenmywholeheart.
Thesprinkleofthewaterricochetsoffthetilesaswechaseourreleasetogether.
???
FULLYSATIATEDANDnolongerrequiringanearly-morninglegworkouttomorrow,IlieinbedscrollingthroughthephotosMeltookofScottandmeonabeachoutinglastweek.MelhasbeenaskingmeforweekswhenI’llgivemyfollowersaglimpseintomyrelationshipwithScott.Fromabusinessperspective,she’softheopinionthatfillingmygridwithcouples’workoutswillexpandmyaudience.Sheisn’twrong.Forsomereason,peoplelovethecatalogshotsofperfectcouplesinmatchingcable-knitsweatersposinginpumpkinpatches,cuttingdownperfectDouglasfirChristmastrees,orgazingintoeachother’seyesinfrontofacracklingfire.
Businessaside,I’vealwaysbeenanopenbookwithmyfollowersonapersonallevel.Igenuinelyconsidermanyofthemtobefriends.Keepingthemoutoftheloopofmyrelationshipfeelsstrange,asthoughI’msomehowbeingdishonestwiththemaboutahugepartofmylife.
I’vebeenhesitanttorevealScottmostlybecauseheisn’tinterestedinInstagramfameintheslightest.Despitebeingsupportiveofmybusinessandeagerlyhelpingmewithmycontent,herarelyevenuseshisownaccount.
WhileScottandIarecertainlynotthatperfectcoupleinmatchingpajamas,thebeachphotosofusareseriouslyadorable.We’relaughinghystericallybecausehe’djustpulledmybathingsuitoutofmycrack,preventingitfromridinguptoofar(one-pieceswimsuitproblems).
I’mstruckwithoverwhelminghappinessasIscrollthrough.MaybeMelhasapoint.Whynotsharemyjoywiththepeoplewho’vefaithfullyfollowedmyjourneyforyears?Besides,Scottisastone-coldfox,awalkingthirsttrap,andthat’sputtingitlightly.Theworlddeservessomeeyecandy.
Izeroinonmyfavoriteshotofussidebyside,hisarmfirmlyaroundmywaist,rippledsix-packshadowedatalltherightangles.We’resmilingateachother,completelylostinthemoment.
Beforewegotosleep,IfinallydebutScotttomyfollowers.chaptertwenty-seven
SCOTTANDIaccidentallysleepuntilteninthemorning,despitethefactthathairandmakeuparescheduledtobeatthehotelpromptlyatnine.
Bleary-eyed,Icheckmyphonewhilesimultaneouslypullingonawrinkledsundressfromthefloor.Ihaveaflurryofnotificationsonlastnight’spost.
Thenotificationsareplentiful,poppinguponeafteranother,butIdon’thaveasparesecondtocheckthem.Infact,Ileavemyphoneathome,becauseGrandmaFlomadeitcleartheweddingdayistobe“unplugged.”
Theentirechaoticracetothehotel,I’msweatingthroughmySpanxthinkingabouthowTaraisprobablyplottingtoroastmyorgansandsellthemontheblackmarketforbeinganhourlate.
Butinsteadoffireandbrimstone,I’mtheleastofTara’sworries.Shehasn’tevennoticedIjustarrived,giventhefirstfranticthingoutofhermouthis“Haveyouseentherings?”
Apparently,Tarahaseveryrighttostress.First,thephotographerarrivedindesperateneedofliquidsandAdvil.Sheregrettablyadmittedshewassufferinganepichangover.Thenitwasdiscoveredthebakermixedupthecupcakeorder,havingmadethegraveerrorofbuttercreamfrostinginsteadofcreamcheese.Thefloristisstillentirelyunaccountedfor,asisDad,whowaslastseentwohoursagosocializingwithfamilybythepool,butisnowAWOL.AndHillaryhasrevenge-peedonMom’sdressafterbeingignoredforsevenfullminutes.
It’squitethesight.Meincrisismode,despitebeinginfullhairandmakeup.I’mhighandhalfblindedfromthesalon-qualityhairsprayfumesasIdashbarefootaroundtheentirehotelpremises,checkingitemsoffofTara’slist.Thebottomsofmyfeetarecharcoalblackandit’sonlynoon.
“Crystal,thefloatingcandlesgointhestemcandleholders,notthepillarholders.”Taraaggressivelyhip-checksmeinfrontoftheheadtablelikewe’rerivalcontestantsonarealityTVgameshowcompetingforahundredgrand
“Jeez,sorry.”IflashScott,whowastaskedtoquadruple-checkthenamecards,anexpressionthatscreamsSaveoursouls.
“Howdoesitalllook?It’stooplain,isn’tit?”Taracastsaself-consciousgazearoundthecandlelitroom,clipboardinhand,nostrilsflared.Shecanbarelybringherselftolookatthenewlyinstalledbold-printcarpetthatapparentlytriggershergagreflex.She’sbeenespeciallypricklysinceIforgottheguard-with-your-lifeinstructionalbinderathomethismorning.It’scompletewithadetailedlistoftasksforeveryminuteoftheday(4:35—Removegreeneryfromarchwayandspreadevenlyonheadtable),typedinnine-pointTimesNewRomanfont,single-spaced,withnarrowmargins,andprintedfronttoback.
Buteverytimetheurgetosnapbackatherbecomesoh-so-tempting,Iremindmyselfshewassupposedtogetmarriedtoday.Theentirefamilyagreesshe’sentitledtoherextrafeelings,especiallyafterourquasi-traumatizingbridesmaiddressfittinglastweek.Tarahadamini-meltdowninthedressingroomwhenrealitysetinthatshewasnolongerthebride.Ittookhalfanhourtocoaxheroutofthechangingroom,whereshe’dbeen
Despitetheemotionalturmoil,Tarahasdoneanoutstandingjobwiththeentirewedding.Everythingissoexpertlyorganized,Iwouldn’thavebelievedshecouldpullitoffonherown.“Ithinkitlooksgreat,”Isay,observinghernervouseyetwitch.Itakeafullpacebackward,formysafety.
Shegroans.“Oh,comeon.Givemeyourrealopinion.”
MybrowsknittogetherasItakeanotherscanaroundtheballroom.“Itoldyou,itlooksbeautiful.Magazine-worthy.”
“You’realwayssovagueandgeneral.Likeyoudon’twanttohurtmyfeelingsbecauseyouthinkI’monthevergeofamentalbreakdown.SometimesIdon’tevenknowwhatyoulikeatall.”Shetossesherhandsupintheairwithaliteralgrowlandtornadoesintheoppositedirection.
Despitethestress,everythingcomestogetherbehindthescenesatthelastminute.Andit’sallworthittoseeGrandmaFlowalkdowntheaisle.
Itisn’tjustthefactthatshe’swearingagorgeousshort-sleevegown,withChantillylacerunningfromthebodiceandextendingtoateacupcutfallingelegantlyatherankles.Orthatherhairisswepttothesideintwenties-stylewavesandclippedwithanantiquebroachthatbelongedtomygreat-grandmother.It’stheradiantsmileshe’swearing,andthewayhereyestwinklewhentheycatchthesunfiltering
SeeingherandMartinwalkbackdowntheaislesidebysideashusbandandwifemakesmychestswelltothepointwhereIfeelguiltyaboutbeingbotheredovertheirrelationship.Ifthisisn’taclearsignthatmovie-worthyloveexistsatanyage,Idon’tknowwhatis.
Liketheweddingceremony,thereceptionfollowsTara’sstringenttimeline.Brideandgroomentrance,softclassicalmusic,andspeechesevenlyinterspersedbetweeneachofthefourcourses.
ScottandIarecrammedatalong,rectangulartablethatholdsthevastmajorityoftheimmediatefamily.GrandmaandMartinsitatasweethearttableatthefrontoftheballroom.They’rebeingadorable,asusual,untilMartinbeginshand-feedingFloherdinnerlikeshe’sawoundedbabybird.
AuntShannonisgoinghardtonight,pushingherlatestpyramidschemeventure:thehealingpowerofcrystals.Asapersonwhosellsfitness,I’vetriedhardnottojudgepeoplewhoabidebythecrystallifestyle.Butit’sdamndifficulttorefrainwhenshe’sflauntingherwhimsicalpendantnecklace,tryingtocoerceeveryoneintobuyingthethree-hundred-dollargemsheswearscuredherchronicarthritis.
Dadisinallhisgloryemceeing,deliveringpunchyone-liners.Themancanseriouslyworkaroom.It’savibe.
“Thinkyourdadwouldemceeourwedding?”Scottwhispersafteraparticularlywell-deliveredlineaboutGrandma’sdryturkeythathastheroominstitches.
WarmthengulfsmefromheadtotoewhenIregisterwhathe’ssaid.AbriefpictureofScottandmesayingIdoflashesthroughmymind.It’sthehappiestmomentofmylife,andithasn’tevenhappenedyet.NowthatI’veseenit,itcan’tbeunseen.
EverysingletimeIthinkabouthowperfectlyhefitsintomylife,howdesperateIamtoseehimafterwork,andhowmyentirebodyhumswithpurejoyatthemerementionofhim,Isimplycan’timaginelifewithouthim.Wehaven’tsaid“Iloveyou”yet.WhileI’vebeentemptedtoblurtitoutonnumerousoccasions,orwriteitonasignandstandoutsidehiswindow,I’mstubbornlywaitingforhimtosayitfirst.Despitehiscockyfa?ade,hewearshisheartonhissleeve.Ifhehasn’ttoldmeyet,hemustnotbeready.AndthelastthingIwanttodoisrushhim.
“Don’tgettooaheadofyourself.Youneedmydad’spermissionfirst,”Itease,clappingasDadswaggersoffthestage,returningtoourtableattheendofhisspeech.
Scottgivesmeaconfidentwinkbeforepolishingofftheremainderofhisdrink.“Pfft.Notworried.Healreadygavemehisblessinglongbeforeweevenstarteddating.Plantedthatseedearly.”
IchuckleatthedrunkenmemoryofFaceTimingDadthenightofFlo’sandMartin’srespectivebachelorparties.“Whatdidyouevensaytogethisapproval?”
Scott’smomentarilydistractedbythesightofthewaitersdeliveringtheentrées.Merrilyleavingmehanging,hecarefullyunrollsmycutleryfromtheclothnapkinandneatlyfoldsitonmylap.Whenhisfingertipslightlygrazemythigh,Ishiverinvoluntarily.“Well,Isaidyouwerestubborn,self-righteous,territorial,especiallyatthegym…”hesays,pretendingtolistmyflaws.“Generally,alittleunhinged.Yourdadfullyagreed.Saidyou’dalwaysbeenthatwayandtherewaslittlechanceofchangingyou.Hepracticallybeggedmetotakeyouoffhisplate.”
Igivehimaplayfulwhackonthechest.“God,youregoreallyisthesizeofBoston.”
Hesqueezesmythighunderthetable,aknowinggrinspreadingoverhislips.
“Crystal,areyoustillonInstaworld?”UncleBillasksfortheforty-seventhtimeashedemolisheshisroastchickenlegwithhisbarehandsasifhe’satKFC.AlongwithinquiringabouthowoldIam,hecondescendinglyasksmeaboutInstagrameverysingletimeIseehim.Idon’tknowwhetherhe’sgenuinelycurious,orifhe’steamedupwithDadtomakeapoint.Eitherway,it’shighlyironic,givenUncleBill’saddictiontorepostingpoliticallytouchyandgentlyracistmemesonFacebookwithstunningfrequency.
“Instagram,”Icorrectthroughabiteofsalad.“Butyeah,Iam.Businesshasneverbeenbetter,actually.”
Dadsighsheavily,takinghisseatacrossfromme.“ThoughhermotherandIkeeptellingherabouttheimportanceofgettingaproperjob.Somethingmorestableoverthelongterm.”
MomnodsinagreementasshebouncesHillaryonherlap,thedogoccupiedhappilylickingthecrumbsontheedgeofthetablewithherlizardtongue.Thishastobeaviolationofthehealthcode
Myhandimmediatelytensesintoafist,onlysofteningwhenScottwrapshisarmaroundthebackofmychair.“Idohaveaproperjob,”Irespondpolitely,soasnottomakeascene.
“ButhowlongisthisInstagramfadgoingtolast?Whathappenswhenpeoplemoveontoanotherplatform?”Dadasks,obviouslyunawareofhowawkwardthisconversationisinfrontoftheentirefamily.
“I’lladapt,”Icutin,meetingDad’scuriousstare.“Ihaveadegreeinbusinessandmarketing,andmultiplecertificationsinfitnessandnutrition.Idon’tneedInstagramtospreadmymessage.”
“Millennials,”Dadchides,elicitingarumbleoflaughteraroundthetable.“Ijustdon’tunderstand.”
IcatchDad’seyeandholdit.“Dad,youdon’thavetounderstandit.”
Ashesetshisnapkinnexttohisplate,Dad’sfaceisunusuallyblank.Unreadable.Ican’ttellifhe’spissedorembarrassedthatwe’rehashingthisoutinfrontofthewholefamily.Heclearshisthroat,andfinally,hislipscurlintoasmile.“You’reright.Ishouldn’tbesohardonyou.”
Itakeinasharpbreath.Idefinitelydidn’texpectthat.Dadmaynothavecomeoutandsaiditdirectly,butIthinkthatwashisweirdsignalofapproval,whichhe’swithheldtheentiresevenyearsI’vehadmyInstagramaccount.Untilnow,I’mnotevensureIknewIneededit.Anditfeelsgood.
ScottleansforwardacrossthetabletoDad.“Yourdaughteristhehardest-workingpersonIknow.Idon’tknowaboutanyoneelse,butIcan’twaittoseewhatsheaccomplishesthisyear.”
Myheartswellsathisunwaveringsupport,especiallywhenDadnodsandsays,“Metoo.Really.”
Themomentdinnerends,Scottpullsmeontothecrowdeddancefloor.IfIdidn’tknowanybetter,I’dassumethiswastheweddingofatwenty-year-oldcouple,whatwiththeDJ’sstrobelightsandalltheRitchies(plusDad)tearingupthedancefloortosomeoldies.
Dadhasjustattemptedtheworm,whichtellsmeFloandMartin’sopenbarbillisgoingtobestaggering.Imakeamentalnotetokeepawatchfuleye.Hehasahistoryofgettingalittleovereagerwhenthere’smusic,booze,andpeople.Atthelastfamilywedding,hesplithistrouserswhilegetting“Low”totheage-appropriatemusicalstylingsofLilJonandtheEastSideBoyz.
“ThisisthebestweddingI’veeverbeento,”ScottyellsenthusiasticallyoveraWhitneyHoustonsongasheloosenshistie.Idon’tknowifit’stheexpertlytailored,dappersuit,butIcan’ttearmyeyesfromhimforlongerthanaminute.I’musedtodroolingoverhiminacasualT-shirt,jeans,andaballcap.Buttonight,hishairispushedbackinawaythatmakeshimresembleanoldHollywoodmoviestar.Idesperatelywanttohaulhimoffthedancefloor,findadarkenedcorner,andgropehimwithabandon.
Whenhetwirlsme,IchannelDancingwiththeStarsandspinintohischest,utterlyandcompletelycontent.NotevenUncleBillaccidentallystompingonmyfootandspillinghisbeeronmefiveminutesagoisenoughtodimmysmile.
Haircakedtomyfacewithsweat,Itakeaquickbreathertogetanotherdrink,leavingScotttodancewithhissisters,bothofwhomareintenselyenthusiasticaboutsynchronize-dancingtothe“ChaChaSlide”and“Y.M.C.A.”
Whiskeysourinhand,IreturnafewminuteslatertofindScottchattingwithalong-leggedredheadwhomIrecognizeimmediatelyasHollyWhitby,thegranddaughterofGrandmaFlo’sfriendEthel.HollyandIgrewuptogether,thankstoourgrandmothers.Wewereclosefriendsaskids,butgrewapartwhenIgotintosportsandsheenteredthebeautypageantcircuit.She’ssomethingofalocalBostoncelebrity,havingparticipatedinprestigiousinternationalpageants.Ofcourse,IonlyknowallofthisfromstalkingherInstagram.Ihaven’tactuallyseenherinpersonsincehighschool.
Shewasalwaysgorgeous,withanearlyperfectsymmetricalface,poutylips,andangelicice-blueeyes.ButnowshelooksstraightoffarunwayinMilanwithhervoluminoushairandlushlashextensions.
HollyleansinclosetoScott,whonodspolitely.
“Dancewithme,”sheordersoverthemusic,extendingherdaintywrist.
Hisstartledgazeflickerstome,withasweetsmile,notthatIeverdoubtedhim.Unbothered,Iwaveahandtowardher,signalingforhimtogoaheadanddancewithher.HegivesmeanI’drathernotface.
HollyfollowsScott’sgazeandglancesoverhershoulder,joltingwhensheseesme.“Crystal?”
Ismile.“Holly.Sonicetoseeyou.”
Wesimultaneouslygoinforanawkwardhug.Aswepullaway,herfaceremainstwistedinconfusion.ShewhipsherheadbacktoScott.“Wait,Crystalisn’tyourgirlfriend,isshe?”
WhenScottdipshischin,confirming,Hollydoesn’thideherbewilderment.Sheturnstoappraiseme.“Wow.You’ve—you’vedonereallywell.Imean…goodforyou.”Hertoneisanythingbutauthentic.Butitalsoisn’tbitchyormalicious.It’sgenuinesurprise.“We’llhavetocatchupsometimesoon.Maybedolunch,”sheadds.
Thefleetingthoughtcrossesmymind:Doesshehavearighttobeshocked?Doeseveryonefeelthiswaywhentheyseeustogether?
Asthetoxicityofmythoughtsbeginstoburrowintomygut,Ishutthemaway,pullingmyselfbacktoreality.“Yeah,lunchsoundsgood,”Itellher,maintainingafriendlytone,despitemyclenchedjaw.
Scottholdshishandout,straightpastHolly,towardme.“Comedance.”Iinstinctivelylethimleadmeintothethickofthecrowd.
HisarmsenvelopmeasweswaytoaslowsongIrecognizebutcan’tname.Thenewlanternsweendedupbuyingthankstomyfailedtree-climbingordealarestrewnfromtheceiling,castingagoldenglowoffhisface.“Ihavenoideawhothatwas.ShecameuptomewhileIwastalkingtoyourmom,”hetellsme,asifhehastojustifyhimself.
Istophim.“Scott,don’tworryaboutit.She’sEthel’sgranddaughter.She’sanicegirl.”
Herunshishandupanddownmybackprotectively,pullingmecloserintohischest.“Youokay?”
“Yeah,I’mtotallyfine,”Isay,eventhoughIdon’tknowifIam.
ItrytoshakeoffHolly’sastonishmentovermebeingScott’sgirlfriend.Itrytoforgetaboutthewayshelookedatme.Orhowsheliterallycongratulatedmeforscoringhim.Butforsomereason,thestingisunrelenting,tothepointthatInolongerknowwhatsongisplayingorwhoisdancingaroundme.
Scottpresseshislipstomyforeheadwhenthesongends.“Wannagobacktomyplacesoon?AndbysoonImeaninexactlyfifteenminutes?Ihavetoworkatsixinthemorning.”
Imanageahalfgrinthroughtheintrudingnegativity.“Ireallywanttobehorizontalwithyourightnow,butIshouldprobablystaybackandhelpmymomandTarawiththecleanup.”
Hegivesmeachastepeckonthecheek.“Noworries.GymtomorrowafterIgetoffwork?”
Inod.“Soundsgood.Butseriously,gohomeandgetsomesleep.”
???
CLEANINGUPTHEdécorattheendofthenightisapainfulendeavorthatinvolvesmelimpingaroundbarefootandtipsy,puttingmyliftingskillstogooduse.Infact,Tarahasdesignatedmethe“muscle,”responsibleforcarryingalltheheavyitemsfromthereceptionroomtoMomandDad’scar.
Bythetimewereturntomyplace,I’mentirelyexhaustedfromthedayanddesperatetoputonmytrustyelastic-waistpajamapants.
AsIsettleintobed,I’mfinallyabletocheckmyphoneforthefirsttimesincelastnight.Whenmyscreenilluminatesthedarknesswithitsblindingblueglow,Ijolt.
Thereareliterallythousandsofnotifications.Allonthebeachphoto.chaptertwenty-eight
Can’tbelieveaguythatlookslikethatwoulddateachicklikeyou.Guesssomeguysjustliketheminsecure.
I’verereadthosewordsatleastfiftytimes.Nowthey’reapermanentscreenshotinmyhead.It’sacompletemanifestationofallthethoughtsIpicturedgoingthroughHolly’sheadwhensherealizedIwasScott’sgirlfriend.Andtherearethousandsmoresimilarcomments,allfromtotalstrangers.
He’swithherforherInstagrammoney.He’stotallygotsidechicks.
Hedeservessomuchbetter!!!He’ssooooohot.
Shecouldeathimforbreakfast.
ThesheernumberofvilecommentsandDMsrollinginonthisphotoeverysecondisunprecedented.Usually,mypostsreachtheheightoftheirengagementwithinthefirstfewhoursthey’reposted.Butnearlytwenty-fourhoursafterIoriginallypostedthebeachphoto,thebarrageofnotificationsonmyphonehasn’tslowed.Infact,thisphotohasreceivedatleastfivetimesmoreattentionthanmostofmyInstagramposts.
MyheartsinkslowerandlowerintodespairasIcontinuetoscrollthroughthethousandsofcommentsandDMs.It’slikeatwistedaddiction.LikeI’mwillinglyinjectingpoisonintomyveins,despiteknowingthecatastrophicconsequences.Thesmartthingtodowouldbetoturnoffmyphoneandsuccumbtoagoodnight’srest.ButIcan’ttearmyselfaway,forsomesickreason.Ireadthroughthecommentsuntilthestrainbecomesunbearable.Untilmyeyesareheavy,dryandgrittylikesandpaper.
Afterlessthantwohoursofsleep,thefirstthingIdothenextmorningissitup,grabmyphone,andpickupwhereIleftoff.
Itrytoremindmyselftherearethreetimesasmanysupportivecommentsastherearenegativeones,butitdoeslittletoquellthesicknessfesteringinmystomach.
OMGsohappyforyou!!
Beautifulcouple
SMOKESHOW.
Heissoinlovewithyou,youcanseeitinhiseyes.
EvenasTaraprattlesonaboutanawkwardencounterwiththeweddingDJlastnightwhileinhalingaPop-Tart,I’mstillgluedtomyphoneatthekitchentable,hunchedoverlikeIgorinthatancientblack-and-whiteFrankensteinmovie,bracingmyselfforanotherabusivecomment.
Sheditchesherplateinthesinkandhopsontothecounter,legsdangling.“Anyway,soheaddedmeonSnapchat.Whenwegothomelastnight,he’dsentmeasnapofonlyhisface.Atanupwardangle,whichI’llneverunderstand.Whydoyouwantthreechins?Andtherewasn’tevenanaccompanyingmessage.Like…ifyouwantsex,youcanatleastsayHi.OrSup.”Shepauses,takingabreath.“IsthiswhatIhavetolookforwardtointhedatingworld?Ifso,IthinkI’llgopurchasethefirstofmythirteencats.”
Igiveheranunenthusiasticshrug.“Nah,DJHeavyJisdefinitelylazy.”
Shesighs,examininghereccentricflamingoslippers.“IsScottycomingovertoday?DoIneedtoputonabra?”
“Maybelatertonight.I’mgoingtothegymwithhimwhenhegetsoffwork,”Itellher,dazedasanothernastycommentpopsontomyscreen.
JustthethoughtofseeingScotttonightmakesmygutclench.ThelastthingIwantistoexplainthephoto.Idon’twanthimtoseeit,forthesimplereasonthatI’membarrassed.Notjustaboutwhatpeoplearesayingaboutme,butaboutthecommentsdirectedathim,especiallyafterhe’sopenedupabouthischildhoodbully.
MystomachisriddledwithunrelentinganxietyasIspendwhatfeelslikeaneternitydeepinthebowelsofthecomments.I’mconsumed,withnosenseofhowmuchtimehaspassed.Hasitbeenonehour?Three?Whocansay?Ihavezerodesiretoleavemyapartmenttodoerrands,orattendmysessionwithMellatertoday.
Itrytobanishthenegativethoughtstothedeeprecessesofmymind,likeIusuallydo.Butit’sdifferentthistime.Forsomereason,theyrefusetobudge.Therearetoomanyofthem,ping-pongingaroundinmyhead,stickinglikeburrs.They’rerelentless.It’slikeI’mdrowninginthem.
I’vethoughtaboutdeletingthepost,butthatwouldsignalweakness.ItcrossesmymindtohandlethislikeIusuallydo,micdropathirsttrapandmoveonwithmyday.Buttheverythoughtofpostinganotherphotoofmyselffeelslikepouringrubbingalcoholonanopenwound.
Rightnow,theonlystrategythatseemssemi-appealingistotakeahiatusonmyaccountandrideoutthestorm.
Despitemydecisiontogodarkuntilitallblowsover,I’mstillaccountabletomyclients.TheironyoftheentiresituationsetsinafterIspendfartoolongstrugglingtodraftamessagetoaclientabouttheimportanceoflovingherself,despiteherperceivedflaws.Ismyself-doubthypocritical?Mybrand’sveryfoundationisrootedinbodypositivity.SowhyhaveIallowedthecommentsoftotalstrangerstomakemedoubtmyselfwhenI’vecomesofarinlovingmybody?
IplaybacktheworstcommentsandDMsinmymind,abouthowScottistoogoodforme.Abouthowhe’seithercheatingorsettling.IkeepthinkingaboutHolly’sface.Thewayshelookedmeupanddown,unabletocomprehendmyassociationwithScott.
AsIheadtothegymforMel’strainingsession,I’mpainfullyawareoftheself-doubtscratchingitswaytothesurface,likeadisease-riddenrodentburrowingthroughacrackinthewall.
Melwavesfromherplacestretchingonthematsinhercolor-coordinatedGymsharkoutfit.She’schipperandradiatingeffortlessconfidence,asperusual.“Hey,girl.”Shestopsafewfeetinfrontofmeandnarrowsherchestnuteyes,probablymentallyevisceratingmylatesthaphazardensemble.“Youokay?”
Inodcurtly.ThelastthingIwanttodoistalkaboutthephotoforfearofbreakingdowninfrontofthe’roid-pumpingfratboysintheGymBroZone.“Justdidn’tgetalotofsleeplastnight.”
“DidCaptainAmericakeepyouupallnightagain?”Shebouncesherperfectlyshapedbrowssuggestively.
“Nah.Justtiredfromthewedding,”Isay,unabletocrackasmile.
“Tarasentmepictures.Itlookedlikeablast.Youguysalllookedamazing.Yourdressfityousowell.”
“Thanks,”Imutter,pointingtotheshoulderpress,indesperateneedofadistraction.
She’stakenabackbymyabrasiveness.Icantellbyherexpectantfacethatshewantstopokefurther,butshedoesn’t.IpurposelyrefrainfromidleconversationsoshegetsthehintI’mnotinthemoodtotalk.
Imanagetomakeitthroughourhour-longsessionwithoutlookingatmyphone,eventhoughmyanxietyisstillbubblingunderthesurface,readytoboilover.
Onourwayoutofthegym,Melasksifshecancomeoverto“laylow.”Apparently,herbrotherisfinallymovingoutofherapartmenttodayandshewouldsoonerflashherboobstoallofExcaliburFitnessthandomanuallabor.
Itellher“Yes,”becausehercompanyiscomforting,evenifIhavenodesiretostringmorethanthreewordstogether.
Themomentwereturntomyapartment,Iswapmygoing-outLulusformypajamabottoms.WesitinsilencethroughnearlyanentireepisodeofRealHousewivesofNewJersey.Meldefinitelyknowssomethingisup,becauseI’vebarelyacknowledgedtheepisode,whichisajuicyoneinvolvingthepullingofabusted-assweave,anipslip,andathrownbirthdaycake.
Usually,I’mrighttherewithher,providingsnarkycommentaryandjudgingTeresa’slatestatrocityofadress.Instead,I’mwatchingmyphonelikeahawkasthecommentsandDMscontinuetorollin,buryingmyselfdeeperanddeeperintoaspiralofsadness.
Whentheshowends,Melfinallyturnstome.“Okay,yourdoom-and-gloomvibeisseriouslydepressingme.What’sup?”
“Whatvibe?”
ShepreensherlashesandlevelsmewithalookthatscreamsCuttheBS.“Oh,comeon.Wegotfullaccesstothewindowsquatracktoday.Usuallyyou’dbeallgiddyandweirdlysentimentalaboutit,actinglikeyou’vewonthelotto.Butyou’vebeenmiserableallafternoon.”
Isigh.There’snomoreavoidingthis.Wordlessly,IturnmyscreentoMelwiththebeachphotoofScottandmeenlarged.
Herfacelightsup.“Youfinallypostedit!Youguyslookamazinginthatshot.”
Itakeamoment,bitingmynailtothequick.Objectively,IknowIlookgreatinthatphoto.Thatswimsuitisflatteringashell.SowhyhaveIbecomesoobsessedwiththeopinionsofstrangers?“Haveyoureadthecomments?”
“DoIneedtocutsomeone?”Shescoopsupherownphonefromthecoffeetable,alreadyscowlingbeforeshebeginstoscroll,liketheloyalfriendsheis.Itwarmsmyheartthatshe’salreadyrighteouslyoutragedonmybehalf,andshedoesn’tevenknowwhat’sgoingon.Asshereads,sheletsoutastrangledgasp,shakingherhead.“Iamsosorry.Thesepeopleareseriouslymessedup.Likepsychologicallymessedinthehead.”
Ipressmylipstogether.“YoushouldseetheDMs.They’reevenworse.”Itosshermyphonesoshecanseeforherself.Shereadsacouplealoud,whichonlyfurthercementstheirbrutality.
Sheregardsmeforamoment.“Screwthem.Iftheyhaveaproblemwithourbodies,whyshouldwecare?Ihopeyou’renottakinganyofthistoheart.”
“Iguessnot…Idon’tknow,”Ilie,eventhoughmyheartisasrawasabloodyraresteak.IdesperatelywishIweretoughenoughtoletthecommentsrolloffmybacklikeMeldoes.Butaftersevenyearsofhavingmyaccount,myarmoriswornandI’mfullyexposed.
“Don’tletitconsumeyou.Anddefinitelydon’trespond.It’snothealthytoengagewiththehaters.Trustme,Iknow.”
“I’mnot.I’mnotpostinganythinguntilIfigureouthowtohandlethis.”
“Allinfluencersgothroughthisandeveryonecomesbackfromitstrongerthanever.Eventheskinnyinfluencers.SelenaGomezwasfat-shamedafewyearsago.I’mnottryingtosayit’sthesamething,butIdounderstand—”
“Yeah,it’snotthesamething,”Iinterject,tonesharperthanintended.
Shecutsmeasternlookandcrossesherarms.I’mofficiallyanasshole.
MythroattightenswithregretandIbacktrack.“I’msorry,Mel.I’mjustalittleoverwhelmed.”
Herfacesoftensasthesecondstickby.Eventually,herarmsuncrossandI’mthankfulshehasn’twrittenmeoffasacompleteasshat.“DoesScottknowaboutthis?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Hehasn’tmentionedit,atleast.”Thankfully,Scottdoesn’tregularlycheckhisInstagramaccount.Ialsodidn’ttaghiminthephotoinanefforttomaintainhisprivacy.
“You’regoingtotellhim,right?”
Ishrug.
“Crystal,youneedtobeforeheseesithimself.Tonight.”
“Iknow.”
Deepdown,IknowMelisright.Scottdeservestoknow.Myfingersitchtocallhim,butuponabriefglanceatmyphonescreen,Iseehe’salreadytextedmeafewminutesago.
SCOTT:Excitedforlegday?Thinkyou’llgoforapersonalbest?
SCOTT:Also,Ihaveanewhighintensityworkoutforus.PromiseI’llgoeasyonyou
ThejuxtapositionofhiscarefreetextwiththestingoftheInstagramcommentsmakesmefeelevenworse.It’slikesomeonehastrappedmeunderaheavilyloadedbarbell.
ThelastthingIneedispityfromScottrightnow,despitehowcomfortingIalreadyknowhewouldbe.He’sseenthehatefulcommentsonmyotherposts,andwe’vetalkedatlengthaboutthem.Buthe’sneverseencommentsinrelationtohimself.He’sneverstraight-upreadabouthowhe’sintofatchicks,orhowI’msodisgustingandunworthy.IfthecommentsI’msousedtocanaffectmetothepointoftears,howbadlycouldtheyaffecthim?
Andworse,couldhestarttobelievethem?
???
“IWASTHINKING,sinceyou’renotfeelingupforthegymtonight,weshouldjusthaveanightin?Icouldevenpickupsomesushi,”Scottcheerfullysuggestsoverthephone.He’scompletelyoblivioustotheavalancheburyingmealive.
He’scalledmeonhiswayhomefromwork,justasI’mmidwaythroughreadingarandomemailfromajournalistatBuzzFeedNews.
DearCrystal,
I’vebeenalongtimefollowerofyourInstagramaccount,CurvyFitnessCrystal.I’vebeeninspiredbyyourjourneyandIcouldn’thelpbutnoticeyourrecentpostwithyournewboyfriend.Iknowyou’vereceivedalotofattentiononthepostandalotofnegativecomments.I’mwritinganarticleaboutit,ifyouwouldn’tmindansweringafewofmyquestions?Ihavefivehoursformydeadline,soI’dliketohearyoursideofthestorybeforethearticlegoeslive.
Bestregards,
DaphneJenkins
Health&LifestyleContributor
Myeyesburnlasersintomyphone.Whatfreshhell?Anarticleaboutmyphoto?OnBuzzFeedNews?Isthisajoke?
Whilethisjournalistappearstohavegoodintentions,broadcastingtheissuedrawsevenmoreunwantedattentiontothenegativity.TheveryfactthatsomeonehasdeemeditnewsworthyonlyreinforcestheridiculousideathatmebeingwithScottissomehow“controversial.”Somuchforslinkingawayintotheshadows.
MyhandstrembleagainasItrytoblinkmyselfbacktothemoment.“Sorry.Izonedout.Whatdidyousay?”
“Iaskedifyouwanttostayin.Youstillinasushimood?Youweresayingyouwerecravingittheotherday.”
Icringe,hoistingmyblanketuptomynecklikeaprotectiveshield.Idon’twantanycompany,particularlyfromScott.
“I’mactuallynotfeelingtoowell,”Isay,panicked.Myexcusetodenyasushidinnerneedstobebelievable,orScottwillbesuspicious.Imakeamuffledretchingsound,grimacingwhenitcomesoutlikethedistressedcriesofawoundedcat.
“Areyousick?”
“Ithinkso,”Isayweakly,whichisahalf-truth.I’mvoidofallenergyfromtheemotionalrollercoasterofthepastday.
“Tellmeyoursymptoms.I’llcomeoverandmakeyoubetter,”heteasessuggestively,obviouslynotpickinguponmytone.
“Sorethroat.Runnynose.It’snotabigdeal.”Iliterallyface-palmmyselfwhenIrealizeI’vemadearookiemistakefeigningillness.Scotthasaparamediccertificationasafirefighter.
“I’mabouttenminutesaway.Canyoustayaliveuntilthen?”
“No,”Isquawk.I’dratherswiminshark-infestedwatersthanbeface-to-facewithScottrightnow.I’mnotreadytowitnesshishumiliation,noramIreadyfortheinevitablepity.“Imean,don’tcome.Imightbecontagious.Idon’twantyoutogetsicktoo.”
“Idon’tcareifyoumakemesick.I’mbringingyousoup.”
“Idon’tlikesoup.”
Hesnorts.“Yes,youdo,youliar.Youeatitallthetimewhenwegoforlunch.”
“Scott,listentome.Idon’twantit.”
He’squietforamoment.“Okay,fine.Yousureyou’reokay?Yousoundmad.DidIdosomethingtopissyouoff?”
“No,youdidn’t.”Myvoiceispained.IalmostwishhehaddonesomethingsoIcouldjustifybeingsuchafrostyassholerightnow.
“Iobviouslydid.AreyouupsetIsmearedicingonyourcheekatthewedding?”
“I’mnotmadatyou,”Isay,toneclipped.
“Okay…IsthereanythingatallIcandoforyou?”
“No.ButIappreciateit.Really.”
Moresilence.“Uh,alright.IguessI’llgobacktomyplace?”
“Yeah.I’lltalktoyoutomorrow.”Myentirebodyachesfromthatcall.Ican’tevenfathomthethoughtofsleepingalonetonight,knowingthisjournalistiswritinganarticleaboutme.Iendthecall,holdingmyphonetomychest.
Imusthavedriftedintomuch-neededsleep,becausewhenmyeyesflyopenatthesoundofkeysjinglinginthelock,thelivingroomisengulfedinadepressingdarkness.IrubthesleepoutofmyeyeswithmyfistsasTaraloomsovermelikesomeominousghostoutofahorrormovie.Whenmyeyesadjust,Iseeshe’sjustcomefromwork,basedonherscrubs.Shesmellslikechickenbroth,whichmakessensewhenIregisterthecontainerofWholeFoodssoupinherhand.
“Scotttextedmeandaskedmetobringthistoyou”—shebringsherhandsupinairquotes—“foryoursickness.”Shelevelsmewithaknowinglook.MeltoldherallabouttheInstagramcomments.IknowthisbecauseTarasentmeamilliontexts,inallcaps,notfiveminutesafterMelleftearlierthisafternoon.
Itakethesoupfromherhands,givingherabored,exhaustedchindip.“Thanks.Howareyou?”
“IateshitoutsideWholeFoodsandburnedaman.Thanksforasking.”Shehikesupthepantlegofherscrubstorevealabloodygashonherknee.
Ileanclosertoexamineit.Itlooksbad,butnotdeepenoughtorequiremedicalattention,eventhoughshe’llprobablyactlikesheneedsit.“Whathappened?Whatdoyoumean,youburnedaman?”
“IwaswalkingoutthedoorswithyoursoupandIshityounot,aguywholookedidenticaltothelatePaulWalker—RIP,blesshisbeautifulsoul—cameoutofnowhere.Itwaslikeamovie…heslammedrightintome.”Sheclapsherhandsfordramaticeffect.“Butinsteadofaromanticmomentofprolongedeyecontact,thesoupwentflying.”
Myeyesgowide.“No!”
Shenods.“Yup.Itallhappenedinslowmotion.Idoveforward…somehowundertheillusionIcouldheroicallycatchtheliquidwithmybarehandsandsparehim.ButIcouldn’t.Itsplatteredalloverhimandhescreamedlikehewasbeingmurdered.Notsureifitwasbecauseofthesoupscorchinghisskinorthesightofmedivingtowardhim…Anyway,heleapedoutofthewayandIwentknee-firstontothepavement.”Shegrimacesatherkneeagain.
“Didyouatleastgethisname?”
Sheshakesherheadvehemently.“No.Bythetimeallwassaidanddone,helookedatmelikeIwasalunaticandranintothestore.AndIawkwardlyhadtolimpinbehindhimtogetmoresoup.”
ThestoryisobjectivelyhilariousandquintessentiallyTara.I’dusuallybeinstitchesoverit.Butrightnow,themusclesinmymouthrefusetoturnintoasmile.
“Youdoingalright?”sheasks,settlingontheedgeofthecouchnearmyfeet.
Ishruglazily.“Ifeellikeshit.”
“Howlongwillyoupretendyou’resick?Scott’snotgonnabuyitformuchlonger,”shepointsout.
“Iknow.I’mjustnotreadyyet.”Myeyessnaptoanewtext.
SCOTT:DidTarabringyouthesoup?
CRYSTAL:Shedid.Thanksalot.
SCOTT:Hopeitmakesyoufeelbetter.Ireallywishyou’dletmecomeover.HeadingintoanotherdoubleshifttomorrowandImissyou.
CRYSTAL:I’mfine.Pleasestopworrying.Imissyoutoo.
SCOTT:Okay.Getsomerest.Also,don’taskmehowIknowthisbecauseit’sembarrassing,butthoseleggingsyoulikeatLululemonareonsale.
CRYSTAL:Cool,thanks.
SCOTT:Ok,iRobot.Iknowyou’resickbutwoulditkillyoutosendanexclamationmark?Anemoji???AGIF???
CRYSTAL:SCOTT:That’satadaggressive,butI’lltakeit.
IlettheguiltoflyingtoScottsettlebeforeIrereadtheemailfromBuzzFeedNews.Igooglethereporter’snameandcontactdetailstoconfirmshe’stherealdeal.Andsheis.
Iseriouslycontemplaterespondingtotheemail,begginghernottowritethestory.Idraftaresponse,whichtakesmethebetterpartofanhour—mostofmytimespentdeletingcursewordsanduncapitalizingfullsentencessoastocomeacrosslikethemature,emotionallybalancedindividualIam.ButbeforeIhitSend,myminddriftsbacktomySizePositivecampaign.Loveyourselfandignorethehaters.
Ideletemydraftemailandclosemylaptop.
Withorwithoutmycomment,thisstoryisgoingviral.Tomorrow.chaptertwenty-nine
FULL-FIGUREDFITNESSINSTAGRAMQUEENBODY-SHAMEDFORDATINGSIX-PACKHUNK
CrystalChen(@CurvyFitnessCrystal),27,broketheinternetwhenshepostedasexy,now-viralphotoofherandhernewbeauatthebeach(photobelow)toher250,000Instagramfollowers.PostedonAugust5th,thephotohasreceivedoverfiftythousandLikesandsixthousandcomments,manyofwhichhavequestionedherapparentnewromance.
Asabody-positiveadvocate,Chenhasbeenonthesceneforyears,cheerfullyspreadingthemessagetowomento“embracetheircurvesandlovetheirbodies.”She’sbeenaninspirationforwomenofallsizesandshapestoengageinweight-neutralhealthylifestyles.Herclientshavelongravedaboutherflexibleworkoutprograms,whichstresstheimportanceofmentalwell-beingintandemwithphysicalhealth.
Whileshedidn’tspecificallynameherswoonynewbeau,he’sbeenidentifiedasBostonFireDepartmentmemberScottRitchie(@Ritchie_Scotty7),30
Chen’sfollowershopeshewillcontinuetoshareherlifewithhernewpartner,whilealsocontinuingtoserveasarolemodelinthefitnessindustry.
*Editor’snote:ChendidnotrespondtoBuzzFeedNews’srequestforcomment,norhasshebeenactiveonheraccountfortwofulldays.
Cocoonedundertheprotectionofathick,knittedblanketonthecouch,Ireadthearticleagainforthefifty-eighthtime.I’mmostcertainlydevelopingaseverecaseofcarpaltunnelfromclutchingmyphonewithadeathgrip.
Uponmyfirstreadofthearticle,Iwaslivid.Iwantedtobreathefireandflipatable,RealHousewivesstyle.Iknewthejournalistwasgoingtowritethearticle,butsomehow,itdidn’tseemreal.Notuntilmynamewasblastedallovertheinternet.
It’snowbeenatotaloftwodayssincethephotowasposted,andit’sofficiallygonebeyondviral.Inbetweenself-loathingandstaringintotheabyss,I’mobsessivelytrackingthecoverage,tryingtolocateeveryplacethearticlesarerepostedandretweeted.
I’vealsobeencontactedbyallthebiggestnewsoutlets,includingGlamourmagazine,PerezHilton,andtheNewYorkTimes.ItwasevenaHotTopiconTheView.WhenWhoopiGoldbergpassionatelyshrieksacrossthetableonyourbehalf,youknowyou’vemadeit.Ifonlyitwereforadifferentreason.
I’vereceivedanoutpouringofsupportivemessagestellingmehow“inspiring”Iam.ButIcan’thelpbutfeellikemyplatform’smessagehasbeencompletelyovershadowed.It’snolongeraboutbodypositivity.It’saboutfat-shaming.CrystalChenasavictim.Thecurvygirlwhosomehowsnaggedasix-packhunk.
Thelogicalsideofmybraintellsmetoendmyhiatusandreclaimthemessage.Butthenagain,woulditallbackfire?Woulditjustscareotherwomenofffromlovingthemselves,especiallywhentheyreadthenastycomments?Themerefactthatthephotoisviralbecauseofthenegativityfurtherreinforcestheinherentstruggleofbeingcurvy.
There’sreallynowinnerinthis—asidefromthetrolls,whomIdon’twanttopayaniotaofattentionto.Ineedmoretimetostrategizearesponse.Andrealistically,Idon’thavetheenergytodefendmyself,orbeanyone’srolemodelrightnow.
I’mheatingacupofnoodles,mynewgo-tomeal,whenIcatchthetimeonthemicrowave.It’ssix.Scottisprobablyjustgettingoffhisshift.ItoccurstomethatIhaven’theardfromhimyettoday,whichisuncharacteristic.Thenagain,myresponsestohistextsyesterdaywereblandatbest.It’ssafetosayhe’sbotheredIhaven’twantedtoseehimafterbeingapartforthepastfewdays,whichmightaswellbeaneternity.
JustasIsettlebackontothecouch,steamingcupofnoodlesinhand,Scottburststhroughthefrontdoorwithoutknocking.It’sasifthemerethoughtofhimhassummonedhispresence.He’swearingthedarkgreenhoodieIlove,whichbringsoutthedeepforest-greenhuesofhiseyes.
I’veneverseenhimlikethisbefore,asidefromwhenhethoughtMartinwassick.Hard,bloodshoteyes.Jawtense.Hairwild,stickingup,unsureofwhichwayitwantstofall.Hestandsinplaceforafewagonizingbeatsbeforestompingforward,brandishinghisphoneinfrontofmyfacewithoneofthearticlespulledup.“Whatthehellisthis?”
Isinkfartherintothecouch,immobile,eyeswelling.Ifeelawfulhe’shadtofindoutaboutitfromsomethirdparty.Itdoesn’thelpthatI’mvoidofanyplausibleexplanationastowhyIhaven’ttoldhimmyself.EverytimeIwenttocallhim,Ichickenedout,terrifiedofwhatwouldhappenifhereadthosecommentssoonerthanheneededto.Butnowthathe’srighthere,obviouslyhavingreadthem,howcanIevenbegintoexplain?
Hissevereexpressionsoftensashesitsdownnexttome,histhumbandindexfingerpinchedoverthebridgeofhisnose,eyesclosed.Thefamiliarwarmthofhisbodynexttominesettlesthedreadinmystomach,butonlymarginally.
Thesilenceisdeafening.Ithinkit’sabouttoswallowusboth,untilhesays,“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
Iburymytearstainedfaceinmyhands,inchingtotheedgeofthecouch,knowingfullwellthereisnoexcuse.Ishouldhavetoldhimthenightofthewedding,ordaysagowhentheBuzzFeedjournalistemailedme.Orbetteryet,whenIoriginallypostedthephoto.“Iwantedtohandleitmyself,”isallIcanthinktosay.
Hesplayshisthumbsovermycheekstowipeawaythefree-flowingtears.“Why?”
“Didyouseethecomments?”
“Yeah,butIhadtostopbeforeIsmashedmyphone.They’rebullshit,”hesays,expressiontightening.“Whyhaveyoubeenavoidingme?”
Isuckinashakybreath.“BecauseIknowhowmuchyouhatethisstuff.Ididn’twantyoutoreadthatcrapaboutyourself,allbecauseofme.Iknowit’snotanexcuse.I’msorryIdidn’ttellyousooner.”
Hepresseshislipstomytemple.“Youknownoneofthosecommentsaretrue,right?I—”Hepausesforamoment,pullingback.“Ihatethatthisishappeningtoyou.”
Themomenthiseyeslockwithmine,mylipstrembleandthetearsoverflowyetagain.MyvisionblursandIfindmyselflurchingforward,sobbingintohischest.I’veneverdonethisbeforeinfrontofhim,infrontofanyguy.I’mlikeacompletelybrokenversionofmyselfwithnowaytoputmyselfbacktogether.
I’mweak,inawayIhaven’tbeensincejuniorhigh.ThedaysIusedtohideinthechangingroomstalltochange.Myentirehighschoolandcollegeyearswerespenterasingthosefeelings,desperatelywillingmyselftofeelthecompleteopposite—strongandconfident.Tryingtobesomeonewhodoesn’tgiveashitaboutwhatotherpeoplethink,especiallyforthesakeofmyfollowers.Now,I’mfacedwiththerealitythatI’mnotreallythatself-assured,happyperson.Nottomyfollowers,andnow,nottothepersonwhomattersmost.Scott.
Ihatethis.Ican’tgobacktothatdark,lonelyplace.Irefuse.
Myeyeshardenatmyinternaldeclaration,andIstraightenmyposture,promptlydabbingawaymytears.“I’mgood.Really,”Isaythroughasniffle.“Tobehonest,IthinkIwanttobealonetonight.”
Hisfaceknotswithunease.Helookspositivelyill.“Alone?Youshouldn’thavetogothroughthisbyyourself.”Herunsahandthroughhishair,exasperated.“There’sgottabesomethingIcando—”
“Scott,please,”Icutin,voicequivering.“StoptreatingmelikeI’msomesad,patheticpuppy.Thereisnothingyoucando.Idon’tneedyoutogointoheromoderightnow.Infact,Ineedtheexactopposite.AllI’maskingforisonemorenightalone,justtocollectmythoughtsandfigureoutwhatthehellI’mgoingtodoaboutallofthis.”
“Crys,I—”
Istophim,placingmyhandoverhis.“Iwillhandlethismyself.Trustme.”
???
TARACLOSESHERpaperbackabruptlyandletsoutaheavysighbesidemeonthecouch.“DoyourememberwhatyousaidtomethesecondweekafterIcametostaywithyou?”
“Uh,tostopleavingyourPop-TartcrumbsallovermykitchencountersorIwouldn’tcookforyouanymore?”Imutter,cheekpressedintothearmofthecouchatanawkwardangle.I’vebeenlyinginthisexactpositionsinceIwokeupthismorning.Theremightaswellbeachalkoutlinesurroundingmylifelessbody.
“Besidesthat.”Tarashiftstotheedgeofthecouch,kneebouncing,eagertoenlightenme.“Youtoldmetowashmyfaceandatleastpretendtohavemyshittogether.”
Ican’thelpbutsnortatthegrimmemory.“Andyouwhippedabookatme.”
Shetightenshergriponthebook.“Damnright.Youwerebeingahard-ass.Butyouknowwhat?Ithelped.Ifeltathousandtimesbetter.SoifIcanstopmopingovermyfiancédumpingmeandmywholefuturebeingflusheddownthetoilet,youcansnapoutofthis.You’reactinglikeabroodingman-childfromoneofmyromancenovels.It’snotagoodlook.You’vegottaletitallout.”
Iflashherthestinkeye,silentlywillinghertoleavemealone.Shedoesn’t.
Thisisoneofmanyglaringdifferencesbetweenus.Withanygivenproblem,sheairsherwoestoeveryoneandanyonewithinhergeneralvicinity,likethepoor,confusedtechnicianatthepharmacyablockfrommyapartment.Themorepeopleandopinions,thebetter(notthatsheactuallytakesanyone’sadvice).
I’veneverbeenonetorelyonotherswhenI’mupset.Forsomereason,Iprefertosufferinbleaksolitude.I’mbasicallytheGrinch(theJimCarreyversion),dwellinginhislair,monologuingexcessively,andloathingallthatisgoodintheworld.
It’sbeenadaysinceScottleft,albeitreluctantly.IfI’mbeinghonest,mystomachbottomedoutthemomenthewalkedoutthedoor.Buttheshockofhavinggoneviral,combinedwithhisI-must-fix-youattitude,wasoverwhelming,almostsuffocating.
Beingalonewithmythoughts,howeverterrifying,reenergizesmeandclearsmyhead,whichisexactlywhatIneedtostrategizemyresponsetothesituation.Ican’tghostmyInstagramforever.
Unfortunately,literalsilencetothinkishardtocomeby.Tarahasbeenblasting“Rumors”byLindsayLohanonrepeat.She’sdeemeditmynewthemesong,andit’sbothtragicallyandembarrassinglyappropriate.Thebopisaclassic,butI’mgettingalittleunnerved.
I’mabouttotextScotttocheckinandthankhimforgivingmethespaceIneedwhenTarashrieks,pausingLindsayrightwhenshe’saskingwhypeoplecan’tjustletherlive.
“What?”Iask.
“DidyouseewhatScottcommented?”
Iwrinklemynoseinconfusion.ScottneverusesInstagram,asidefromlikingallmyphotoswhenwefirstmet.“What?No.”
Tarahandsmeherphone,eyeswiderthandinnerplates.“You’renotgonnalikethis.”chapterthirty
CommentbyCJS_49er:There’snowaythisguyiswithherforanythingbuthermoneyandfamelol.Whywouldaguywholookslikethatsettle?He’sdefinitelycheating!
ReplybyRitchie_Scotty7:@CJS_49erYou’repatheticandyoushouldbeashamed.Crystalisbeautiful,insideandout.Ifeelsorryforanyonewhodoesn’tseethat.She’sthekindofpersonwhowouldgivetheshirtoffherbackforastrangerandhasdedicatedherlifetohelpingothers.Dousallafavorandgetafuckinglife.Putyourhatredandignorancetowardsomethingusefulforachange.
“Youjustcan’thelpyourself,canyou?”Ihiss.
Scottlooksalittlefrazzledashestepsasidetoletmein,andIdon’tblamehim.I’veshownupathisapartmentoutoftheblue,practicallyfuming.Admittedly,it’sdifficulttomaintainanylevelofoutragewhenAlbusDoodledoreisgallopingaroundthelivingarealikeatinyhorse,euphoricaboutmyarrival.Histonguelollsoutofthesideofhismouthashenibblesmyfingers.
Iclenchmyfists,shieldingmyfingersfromAlbus,whichautomaticallyresetsmyheadspace.ThesimpleactremindsmewhyI’mhere,reignitingthefurypulsingthroughmyveins.IfIwereananimatedcharacter,steamwouldbebillowingoutofmyears.
“Icanexplain.”HewatchesasIpacethelengthoftheIKEAcoffeetableinfrontofthecouch,Albusfollowingnoblyatmyfeet,thirstingformetotosstheslobberystuffedgibbonhe’sdroppedonmyfoot.
“Scott,ImadeitclearIdidn’tneedbackup.ThatIwantedtohandlethismyself.Andyouwentbehindmybackandrespondedtoabunchofcomments.YoudidexactlywhatItoldyounottodo.You’veswoopedin,tryingtobeaheroIdon’tneed.You’vestolenmyopportunitytostrategize.Toregroup.Toaddresstheentiresituationinmyownway.AndnowIlooklikesomebrokendamselindistresswhorequiresrescueandvalidationbyherbig,strongboyfriend.”
Heswallows,headhanginginregret,likeasmallchildintroublewiththeprincipal.“I’lldeletethem.”
Myirritationflares.“It’swaytoolateforthat.”
Thecommentswereonlypostedtwohoursago,andalready,BuzzFeedNewshaswrittenafollow-uparticle,titledSix-packboyfriendoffull-figuredfitnessinfluencerspeaksout,loveshercurves.Itpaintsmeinanevenmorepatheticlightthanthefirst.
Andworse,justwhenthecommentswereslowingdown,justwhenIwasbecomingoldnews,buriedbythenextjuicyscandal,thehatehasrampedupalloveragain.
Scottregroupsandstands,reachingformyhands.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyself,avoidinghistouch.“I’msorry.ButIcouldn’tletpeoplebombarduswiththeseasininecommentsabouthowImustbecheatingonyou,orusingyou.Itcouldn’tbefartherfromthetruth.Ican’tletpeoplesayhorriblethingsaboutthepersonIlove.”
Love.
Everythingcomestoascreechinghalt.Mymindisakintooneofthoseplasticcar-crashtestdummies,flyingforehead-firstintotheairbag.I’mjolted.Whiplashed.Frozen.Didhereallyjusttellmehelovesme?“What?”Imanagethroughmyshock,visiontunneling.
Hisgazedoesn’twaver,eyeslockedtomine.“IsaidIloveyou.MorethanIcanevenputintowords.”
“Whendidyoudecidethis?”Myvoicecomesoutinbarelyawhisper.Astheweightofhiswordssettlesontomyshoulders,Ilowermyselftothecouch.Hesitsnexttome,kneestouchingmine.
There’salongpause,asifhereallyneedstothinkthisthrough.“Sinceyoupeeledmyclementineforthefirsttime.ThatnightwewatchedLordoftheRings.”
Everythinginsidemeclenches.ThosethreewordsareeverythingI’vebeendyingtohearfromhimoverthepastmonth.Ononelevel,heseemstobetellingthetruth,oratleasthethinksheis.Butsayingitnowfeelslikepity.Whynottellmethemomenthefeltit?He’shadplentyofopportunitiessince.Whywaituntiltheworstpossiblemoment?Idesperatelywanttobelieveit’sgenuine.Butthere’sanaggingdoubtthatwon’tgoaway,nomatterwhathesays.It’sthesamedoubtthat’sseeminglycloudedeverythinginmylifesincethephotowentviral.
HowcanhebeinlovewithmeifI’mnotevensureI’minlovewithmeanymore?
Afterthewhirlwindofthepastfewdays,itsimplyisn’tregistering.“Scott,Ijustdon’tknow.”
Hispatiencewanes.“Youjustdon’tknowaboutwhat?IjusttoldyouIlovedyou.”
“I’msomadatyou.Youshouldhaveaskedmefirstbeforeyouwentaheadandresponded.”
“Ididn’taskyoubecauseIknewyouwouldfreakout.Likethis.”Hewavesafed-uphandinmydirection.
“Thisissocialmedia101.Youneverrespondtoyourhaters.Ever.”
“Evenifthey’respreadinglies?”
“Especiallythen.”Afreshswellofresentmentrisesinmythroat.“Yourcommentslooklikemyresponsetothewholething.Itmakesmelookweak.LikeIneededyoutogotobatformepublicly.Likethecommentsaffectedme.LikeIhatemybodyandIneedreassurancefromsomeonelikeyou.”
“Butwhyisthatsuchabadthing?Whydoyouneedtobetheonetorespond?”
“Because!It’smyimage.It’smybrand.”
Hislipstwistindismay.“Don’tyouevergetsickofthis?Tiredofconstantlygettingshiton?”
“YouknowIdo.ButwhatchoicedoIhave?”Irunmypalmsdownmycheeksinexasperation.ItfeelslikeI’mbeingforcedtosolveanunsolvablejigsawpuzzle.
“Whydon’tyoudeletethestupidpicture?It’sgoingtotakeatollonyou,littlebylittle.”Hetrailsoffwhenhenoticesmygrimace.
Ishouldhaveknownthiswascoming.“Scott.HowmanytimesdoIhavetotellyou?I’mnotatwelve-year-oldinmiddleschool.I’msosorryaboutwhathappenedtoyou.Ireallyam.Butthisisn’tthesamething.Deletingonephotowon’tchangeanything.”
Hetosseshispalmsintheair,red-hotirritationflaring.“Butlookatwhatit’sdonetoyou.You’reconsumedbyit.YouhavebeensinceImetyou.I’mconcernedforyou.Thisshouldn’tdefineyou.You’reworthsomuchmore.Youaresomuchmorethanjustthis.”
“It’snotthatsimple.”
Hisjawticks.“Howisthissupposedtoworkifyoucontinuetoshutmeoutentirely?Everysingletimetheidioticinternettrollssayshitaboutyou?”
“Idon’tknow!”MyvoicecomesoutlouderthanIintended,andIfindmyselfstanding.
Hescoffs,standingtoo,handsonhips.“Youknow,thisistheentireproblemwithus.Italwayshasbeen.Youdon’ttrustme.Youdon’ttrustmeenoughtorelyonmewhenshitgoeswrong.Andyouknowwhat?I’mdonetryingtoearnyourtrust.Idon’tknowwhatelseIcando.”
“HowcanItrustyouwhenyougobehindmybacklikethis?”Iaskhonestly,manicallygesturingtothespacebetweenus.“ItoldyouIwashandlingitbymyself.”
Herakesatensehandthroughhishair.“Butthat’sjustit.Youdon’thavetodothingsbyyourselfanymore.That’stheentirepointofarelationship.Youhavemenow.We’resupposedtogetthroughthesethingstogether.Asateam.”
I’mquietforafewmoments.He’sright.Myfirstinstinctshouldhavebeentacklingthistogether.Anditwasn’t.Itwastheexactopposite.Ikeptitfromhimlikeadirtysecret,because,deepdown,Iwasterrifiedhe’dbelievethecomments.Iwasterrifiedhe’dwalkawayfromme.
Hecontinues.“Andifwe’reactuallygoingtobeateam,Irefusetostandbyandkeeplettingthisshithappen.”
Iblink.“Ican’tbeknownasthefatgirlwhodaredtodateahotguy.Ican’t.I’veworkedtoohardtogettothispoint.”
Hedigestsmywordsandshakeshishead,likearealizationhasjustwashedoverhim.“Sothat’swhatthisisabout?”
“Ihaven’tfeltthisbadaboutmyselfinyears.IneedtimetofiguremyselfoutbeforeIcanfocusonus.”
ScottpullsbackasifI’veslappedhimintheface.Hestaresatthefloorunderhisbarefeetforwhatfeelslikeahellisheternity.“So…you…what?You’rejustendingthings?AfterItoldyouIlovedyouforthefirsttime?Afterallwe’vegonethroughtoevengettothispoint,you’rewillingtotossitalloutthewindowbecauseofsomestupidphoto?”heasks,voicelow,gravelly,andexhausted.
“Yes.”Myheartiscrushedtodustwhenthewordsettles.Ican’tevenargue,ortakeitback,becauseit’sthetruth.IfItrulywantmystrengthback,Ineedtofinditmyself,notwhilehidinginScott’sarmsashepetsmyhair,tellingmeeverythingisgoingtobesunshineandrainbows.
Hedropshisheadinhishands.Whenhecomesupforair,itfeelsliketheentireapartmenthasbeensuckedofalloxygen.I’vecompletelycrushedhim.Dugmyheelinandstomped.
Instinctively,Ireachforwardtepidlytopullhimintoahug.Hedrawsinaprolongedsigh,pressinghisforeheadtomine.Imemorizehiswoodsyscentandthesecurefeelingofbeingnearhim.ItrytoholdontothismomentforaslongasIcan.
Iclosemyeyes,andunexpectedly,hislipscrashintomine.It’snotgentleorsmooth.It’sanguish.Ourtonguesfightagainsteachother’s,inturmoil.Inanger,sadness,andlove,allspunupinatornadoofchaos.
BeforeIopenmyeyesagain,hetearshimselffrommelikehe’sbeenburned.Herunshishandthroughhishair,unsureofwhattodonext.Ourtearyeyesmeetagainasheletsoutastrainedbreath.“Crystal…doyouevenloveme?”
IwanttotellhimYes.Badly.ThatI’veknownIlovehimforweeksnow.Butwhat’sthepoint?Itwilljustmakethingsharder.“I’msosorry.”Myvoicecomesoutinawhisper
Imeethisgaze,andallIseeissadness.It’slikeI’mwitnessinghisheartcrumpleandsplitintwo.Andmine’squicktofollow.It’slikethefullweightofakettlebelldroppingontomychest,shatteringthebone.
WhentherealizationsettlesthatI’mnotchangingmymind,heturnsaway.
There’snothingleftformetodobutleave.chapterthirty-one
IHAVEN’TLEFTTHEconfinesofmyapartmentintwodays.Ihaven’tevenchangedoutofmypajamas.Tarahasundertakenthetaskofbrushingmyunrulytrollhaireveryday.It’sapainfulexperience,becauseshebrushesstraightfromtheroot—notthemiddle—likeamonster.I’msurprisedI’mnotentirelybald.
Ihatefeelinglikethis.IhatethatI’veletthehaterswin.Anditmakesmefeellikemyentireplatformhasbeenalie.HowamIsupposedtopreachself-loveandbodypositivitywhenI’veallowedmyselftogetsocaughtupinthenegativity?
Bynow,I’dhopedtohavesomegrandepiphany.TocomeupwithagameplantomoveforwardwithmyInstagram.Butinstead,I’minzombiemode.Justexisting.Eat,sleep,repeat.
AfterIrefusetoleavethecouch,Taracallsinreinforcements.Melbargesintomyapartmentwithafullcartonofclementines.Immediately,Ibegintougly-cry,KimKardashian–style.InMel’sdefense,shedoesn’tknowthesentimentalmeaningoftheseadorable,innocentcitrusfruits.AllIcanthinkaboutisthesmileonScott’sfacewhenIpeeledthemforhim.
“God,youareamess,Crystal,”Melsays,notbotheringtohideherdispleasureasshetakesintheabsolutedisasterthatismynormallytidyapartment.Shefrownsatthedirtydishespiledinmysink,theusedtissueslitteringthecoffeetable,andthesodacrackercrumbssmearedintomycouch.Becauseofmystate,Tarahasstartedcleaningupafterme,butherinitiativeisstillspottyatbest.
Melinchesontothetinypatchofcouchthatisn’tcoveredincrumbs.ShepatsmybackasIgobackandforthbetweensobbingandblowingmyrawnose.
Ifinallycomeupforair.“I’msorry,Mel.I’vebeenaselfishasshole.Howareyoudoing?”
Sheshakesherhead,vaguelywavingmeoff,asifherlifeisthelastthingshewantstodiscuss.“I’mfine.Really.Igotapartnershipwiththissuper-cuteswimwearbrand.”
“I’msohappyforyou,”Itellhergenuinely.Despitemyownsadness,digestingsomeoneelse’sgoodnewsisactuallyawelcomechange.“HowarethingswithPeter?”Iaskafteracouplemomentsofsilence.Idon’tknowPeteronapersonallevel,asidefromthetimeScottandIwentonadoubledatewiththemattherock-climbinggym.He’soneofthoseguyswitharestingboredfacewho’sunderthedelusionhe’stoointellectuallysuperiorforpedestrianactivitieslikerockclimbing.Healsoexclusivelywatchestelevisionforeducationalpurposes,neverforentertainment.Scottcalledhim“cardboard”andbetmetheywouldn’tlastlongerthanafewmoremonths,giventheirlackofliterallyanythingincommon.
Mel’sshouldersriseandfall,asifexasperated.“Idunno.Okay,Iguess.Westillcan’tagreeonanything.Ever.Like,theothernight,Iwasreallylookingforwardtohangingoutwhenhegotoffwork,buthesaidnobecausehewantedalonetime.EvenafterItriedtoenticehimwithablowjob.”
Tarajutsherchinforward.“Youofferedablowjobandhestilldidn’twanttocomeover?”
“Nope.AndIrarelyofferblowjobs.Ithoughtforsurehe’dpounceonit.Doyouthinkthat’sabadsign?”
Tarafrowns.“Imean,I’venevermethim.Ican’tjudgehislifeandmotivations.ThoughI’veneverknownaguytoturndownablowjob.”
Igrimace,dazed.“ScottistheonlypersonI’veeverwantedtobearoundallthetime,evenwhenmyshits-to-givereservewaslow.”
ThepastfewdayswithoutScottLandonRitchiehavebeendull.It’slikethevibrant,warmpresetfilterhasbeenstrippedaway,leavingonlygloomydarkness.Everythingisempty.Hisspotonmycouch,hissideofmybed,thelackofhisinfectious,full-bodylaughterechoingthroughmyapartment.
Imisswatchingoutrageouslylongmoviestogether.Himaskingamillionquestions,confusedbecausehefellasleepfortenminutesandmissedacrucialscene.
Meldiscreetlybrushessomeofthecrackercrumbsoffmycouch.“Haveyoutalkedsince?”
“No.”Scotthasn’tbombardedmewithcallsandtexts,andIdon’tknowwhetherIshouldfeelrelievedorworseaboutit.Thoughhedidleaveonevoicemail,whichsaid“Crys,I…I’msosorryaboutrespondingtothosecomments.Whenyou’reready,pleasecallme.”
“Istilldon’tgetwhyyou’retakingspacefromhim.Especiallyafterhetoldyouhelovedyou,”Melsays.
“Buthetoldmeattheworstpossibletime.Andwhenhefirstsaidit,Ididn’tevenbelieveit.That’showfargoneIamrightnow.”
“Seriously?Ofcoursehelovesyou.Ireallydon’tknowwhyyou’redoingthistoyourself,”Taraadds,joiningusaftertidyingthekitchen.Insteadofcurlingupontheendofthecouch,shenestlesherselfontopofme,feetdanglingonMel’slaplikeagiganticbaby.
AsmuchasIwanttocallhimatanygivenmomenttotellhimIlovehim,thatI’llgobacktomyold,confidentself,Ican’t.
“NotuntilI’mbackontrack,”Isay.“Ican’triskbreakinghisheartagainuntilIshakethis.AndI’mstillalittlemadathim.”
Tarashootsmeafuriousstare.“Itisn’tScotty’sfaultyourconfidencetookadip.It’sthetrolls’.Youcan’tblamehimforthat.Hewasjusttryingtoprotectyou.Sure,hewentaboutitallwrong.Buthealsohadthebestofintentions.AndifI’mbeinghonest,Ikindofagreewithhim.I’mworriedaboutyoutoo.”
Iglareather.“Seriously?”
“Look,you’vebecomeobsessedwiththisbody-positivitythingtoyourdetriment.You’veletabunchofidiotic,jealousinternethatersaffectyousobadlythatyou’velostyourrelationshipoverit.”
“Hestillwentbehindmyback,”Iremindthemstubbornly.
Melrollshereyes.“Thereweresomenastycommentsabouthimtoo,youknow.Whyishenotallowedtostandupforhimself,ifnotyou?It’snotallaboutyou.”
Shehasapoint.Therewereawfulcommentsabouthimtoo,notjustme.HaveIreallybeenthatselfish?
Iburymyfaceinmyhands,ashamedofmymisplacedblame.“Well,itdoesn’tmatter.Theonlywaytoavoidthisistodeletemyentireaccount.Andgivingmyplatformupisn’taquestion.”
“Whateveryoudecide,youcan’tcontinueonlikethis.It’snotsustainable,”Melwarns.
“Ithastobe.”
MelpassesmemoretissuesasIbegintohiccup.“Youdon’tneedtobesostrongandconfidentatalltimes,Crystal.Evenifyou’reatrainer.Thecurvycommunitydoesn’tneedyoutodefendthem.We’reperfectlyfine.Whatweneedisyoutobethebestyoucanbe.”
Isigh.“Andthat’stheworstpart.Afterallissaidanddone,Idon’tfeelmybest.AnditfeelslikeI’mlivingalie.Howcanyoubesopositiveallthetime,Mel?It’slikeyoudon’tletanythingbotheryou,ever.”
Shelevelswithme,stone-faced.“Therapy.EversinceIgotInsta-famous,orwhateveryouwanttocallit,Iseemytherapistonceeverytwoweeksandshe’samiracleworker.”
Itiltmyhead,considering.“MaybeIcouldlookintoit.”
“AndIampositive,mostofthetime,”Melcontinues.“Justlikeyouare.Imaynotgivetwoshitsaboutthecommentsanymore,butIstillhavedayswhereIdon’tloveeverythingaboutmyself.It’snormal.”
Taranods,restingherheadonmyshoulder.“You’reputtingunfairpressureonyourself,Crystal.Everyonedoubtsthemselvessometimes.It’spartofbeinghuman.Especiallyafterwhatyou’vebeenthrough.”
Istruggletotakeintheirwords.“Iguessso.”
AfterMelleaves,IfindmyselfscrollingthroughmyFeedbackemailfolder.It’swhereIsaveallthefinalmessagesfrommyclientsafterthey’vecompletedtheirprograms.IpulluponefromJennifer—oneofmyfavorites.
HiCrystal,
Ican’tbelievehowfastthesefewmonthshavegoneby.Ican’ttellyouhowmuchyoursupporthasmeanttome.Ineverhadtheconfidencetogotothegymandliftweights.Thatallchangedwhenwehadourfirstmeetingandyoutoldmethatnooneelseisactuallypayingattention.Yougavemethatkick-assplaylistandforthefirsttime,Ifeltempowered.
I’veprogressedsomuchbothinthegymandmentally.You’veconvincedmethateatingonebadmealisn’tgoingtoerasemyprogress.Inolongercountcaloriesorobsessoverweighingmyportions.I’mhappynow,forthefirsttimeinyears.Somedaysarebetterthanothers…butasyousaid,aslongasthegooddaysoutweighthebaddays,that’swhatcounts.
Ican’trecommendyouenough.You’remorethanjustafitnesstrainer.I’llalwaysconsideryouoneofmybestfriends.
Loveyou!
Jennifer
Ispendtheentireeveningreadingtheseemails.Ifthere’sonecommonthreadamongallmypastclients,it’sthattheywerewellontheirwayontheirjourneytoself-acceptance.Sure,theydidn’tlovethemselveseverysinglesecondofeveryday.AndIreassuredthemthatwasokay.Thataslongastherewasmorelovethanloathing,theywereontherighttrack.
MaybeIwasontosomething.chapterthirty-two
MYWAKE-UPCALLcomesthenextdaywhentheUPSmandeliversmynewsponsoredathleticwear.Therepulsioninhiseyesatthesightofmypale,cadaver-likefaceandstainedpajamasasheasksforasignatureisagutpunch.SomuchsothatIfeelcompelledtofakecoughandgivetheunsolicitedexplanationthatI’mthevictimofamysterious,possiblydeadlyplague.I’mnotsufferingfromaseverecaseofself-loathing!Iswear!Don’tjudgeme.OkaythanksBYE.
Ifthere’sanyhopeofgoingbacktonormal,Ihavetostartsomewhere.Ineedtoreturntothegym—theplacethatusedtobemysanctuaryfromallthingsbad,ugly,andstressful.Notonlyforthesakeofmybusinessandlivelihood,butformyself.Formysoul.
ThemomentIstepthroughtheturnstilesandinhalethatfamiliarscentofsweat,disinfectantspray,grit,anddetermination,theanxietyofleavingmyapartmentbeginstodissipate.Therearen’tatonofpeoplehere,giventhatit’smidafternoon.Itakeaquickglancearound,recognizingacouplefaces.TheWalkmanguywiththegoatee.Thebodybuilderwomanclenchingherrock-hardbuttinthemirror.Thankfully,theonepersonI’mdesperatelytryingtoavoidisnowheretobeseen.
WhenI’mface-to-facewithmyfavoritesquatrackbythewindow,theguiltfloodsin.That’sthethingwithstrengthtraining:breaksdelayprogress,regardlessofmusclememory.
Bymysecondset,I’mcrimson-faced,frustrated,andonthevergeoftears.Ifeelthestrain.TheimmediatesorenessandJell-Osensationinmylegsfromdaysofinactivity.
I’mglisteningwithsweat,contemplatinggivingupandretreatingtothesanctuaryofmybed,whenawomanIdon’trecognizeapproaches.She’smiddle-aged,withtannedskinandgorgeousdeepbrowneyes.Myattentionimmediatelyzeroesinonherneon-coloredLizzoconcertT-shirt,whichreadsFeelin’GoodAsHell.
“GreatT-shirt,”Itellher.
Shesmiles,glancingdowntostretchitout.“Thankyou!Gotitatherconcertinthewinter.Thewomancanseriouslyperform.Andinheels.”
“Right?Idon’tknowhowyoucanrockheelsforthatlongwithoutruiningyourfeet.”
Shenodsinvigorousagreement,stilllingering.“Ihatetobotheryou…”
Idrawinabreath,fullyexpectinghertoaskmeifI’mthegirlfromtheviralphoto.
“Idon’twanttosoundsupercreepy,butIwaswatchingyoudoyoursquatsandIcouldn’thelpbutthink,holyshit,thatwomanisfreakin’amazing.Howmuchareyousquatting?”
Istareatherindisbelief,forsolongthatshemustthinkI’mderanged.Afterdaysofagonizingoverwhatstrangersthinkofme,theunsolicitedcomplimentfeelsforeign.“Uh…thankyou,”Istammer.
“Idon’tthinkIcanevensquatthebar,”shelamentsassheexaminestheweightonthebarbehindme.“I’mRhonda,bytheway.”Sheextendsherhandinafriendlygreeting.
“I’mCrystal.”Ireturnherhandshakebeforenoddingtothesquatrack.“Andwhenitcomestosquatting,itreallydependsonyourbodyweight.Thatwilldeterminehowmuchyou’renaturallyabletopush.Butit’slikeanyothermuscletraining.Youhavetostartoffslow.Reallyslowwithsquats.Letyourbodygetusedtothedynamicmovement.”
Sherestsherbodyweightontherackasshenodswithinterest,soIcontinue
“Squattingisafull-bodyworkout.You’renotonlyworkingoutyourlegs.You’refullyengagingyourcoreandyourbutttoo.”
“Yousoundlikeanexpert.”
I’mstruckbytherealizationthatIreallydoknowmyshit.“Technically,Iam.I’mapersonaltrainer.”
“Nowonderyou’reliftingsoheavy.I’vebeenmeaningtobookafewsessionswithatrainer,justtogetstartedonsomeweightlifting.It’sonlymyseconddaytodayand…”SheglancesaroundtheGymBroZonelikealostsheep.“I’mfeelingalittleoverwhelmed.”
Itiltmyheadsympathetically,recallingtheterrorandembarrassmentofenteringthegymforthefirsttimesomanyyearsago.
Iscanthespace,takinginthesightoftheintimidatinggymbrosgruntingtoourleft.Myeyecatchesthecablemachine,whereScottcommittedPaperTowelGate.Thethoughtmakesmygutache,butonlyforacouplesecondsbeforeI’mtransportedbacktoRhonda.
“Honestly,thoseguyslookintimidating.Butthey’rereallynicewhenyougettoknowthem.Alwayswillingtohelpifyouneedit,”Ireassureher.AsmuchasIragontheirfrat-boyways,they’realwaysfriendly,greetingmewhenevertheyseeme.
Shedoesn’tlookconvinced,andIdon’treallyblameher,asanewbie.Afterrereadingmyclientemails,Iwanttohelpsomeoneagain.“IhavetwomoresetsandI’llbedone.ThenIcanshowyousomethings,ifyouwant?”
Shesmileseagerly,butquicklyshakesherhead.“It’sokay.Idon’twanttotakeupyourtimeifyou’rebusy.”
“Youaren’tatall.Justgivemeacoupleminutes.”
Aftermylastset,IshowRhondaoneortwobasicmovesonthemachines.Iusuallystartbrand-newgym-goersonthemachinessotheycangetagoodbasebeforemovingontofreeweights.
Rhondatellsmeabouthowshe’sarecentlydivorcedhighschoolguidancecounselor.ShemovedtoBostonfromasmalltownnearAtlanta.She’sbeen“onaself-acceptancejourney,”asshedescribesit.Whileshedoesn’thavethebudgettogoallEat,Pray,Love,shehasindulgedinanewhaircutandnewwardrobe.
WhenshetellsmeI’veinspiredhertostartliftingweights,Ihavetositdownonabenchtocollectmyself.It’sthefirsttimeinweeksI’vefelthope,upcloseandpersonal,rightbeforemyeyes.Hopethatanother’ssuccessandhappinesscanmotivatemeonceagain.Hopethatthisviralincidentwon’tdefinemefortherestofmylife.
Meetingsomeonewho’slearnedtoacceptandrespectherselfagainafterherlifewasturnedupsidedownisinspiring.MaybeIcanlearnalittlesomethingfromhertoo.SoIoffertotrainherfreeofcharge.
???
“WATCHYOURFORM.Straightenyourbackalittle…there.Yougotit.”
IswellwithprideasRhondaembarksonherthirdsetofsquats.Istartedheroffwithjustthebar,butafteronlyafewsessions,she’salreadyprogressedtoonehundredandtwentypounds.
EventhoughRhonda’sadecadeolderthanme,sheandIhavebecomefastfriends.She’sstilljobhunting,sooursessionsareusuallyintheafternoon.Inbetweenherworkouts,whenshecancatchabreath,sheupdatesmeaboutherdivorcewoes,thefiercecustodybattleoverhertwohairlesscats,TimandTam,andhowliberatingitistopeewiththedooropeninhernewapartment.
“I’veevenboughtabunchofperiodpanties,”sheannouncesproudly,doingaminishimmy.“Chuckalwayshatedthem.Bannedthemwhenwefirststarteddating.Imean,IknowFruitoftheLoomisn’tsexy.Butdamn,thosethingsarecomfortable.”
“Myexhatedthemtoo.Notmylastone.Theonebefore.Neil.”
“Ah,theguywhousedyouasarebound?”
“Yup.TheonebeforeScott.”
Herforeheadpinchesassheregistersmyimmediatemoodshift.“WhathappenedwithScott?”
Ibitemybottomlip,anddespitemylonerinstincts,everythingfloodsout.Fastandfurious.Likesomeone’scutaslitthroughmyumbrellainatorrentialdownpour.Iopenupabouttheviralphoto.Lettingitalloutfeelslikeamassiveweighthasbeenliftedfrommyshoulders.
Rhondalistenslikeatrueguidancecounselor,seatedatoptheriser,longpastourscheduledhour-longsession.“ThisiswhyIhidefromtheinternetatallcosts.”Herteasingexpressionisquicklyreplacedwithsympathy.“I’msorryyoufeellikeyou’velostyourplatformandsomeofyourconfidenceoverthephoto.That’sawful.Humansaren’tmadeforthatkindofscrutiny.Nooneshouldhavetogothroughthat.”
“Ithasn’tbeenfun.ButI’mmanaging.IhatefeelinglikeI’vesoldliestopeople.I’veencouragedpeopletolovethemselvesnomatterwhat.I’mstartingtothinkit’salottoask.Lovingyourselfallday,everyday?”
Sheshrugs.“Idon’tthinkconfidenceandself-worthissomethingyoumagicallyattain.Andyoudon’tsimplyholdontoitforeverlikeatangibleobject.It’sfluid.Youcanbeconfidentineveryaspectexceptone.Orsomethingcouldhappenandallyourconfidencecanbeshatteredinaninstant.LiketheInstagramphoto.Itdoesn’tmeanyoudon’tinherentlyloveyourselftothecore.”
Itakeinherwordsforamoment.“HowdoIgetmyconfidenceback?”
“You’vegottafinditonyourownterms.Yourediscoverthingsyouloveaboutyourselfandnourishthem.Andnotjustthethingssocietytellsyouthatyoushouldlove.Beautyisn’tobjective,youknow,asmuchassocietytellsusitis.”
Ipursemylips.“Idon’tknowifIagreewithyou.”
“Whynot?”
“Becausepeopleseemtolikethesamethings,predominantly.EveryonethinksScarlettJohanssonishot.TheHemsworthbrothers.IdrisElba.Heart-shapedfaces.Lighteyes.Younameit.”
“OnlyasegmentofWesternsociety,”shenotes.“Curvesusedtoberevered.Andpersonally,Idon’tknowwhatpeopleseeinthoseHemsworths.Rippedabsdon’tdoanythingforme.Like,givemesomedadbodsalready,Hollywood!”
Ichuckle,pickingatthelintonmyleggings.Shehasapointthere.Differentregionsoftheworldhavedifferentbeautyideals.Andbeautystandardschangewithtime.“Maybe.”
“Everyoneseesbeautydifferently,Crystal.What’sworse,thatsamesocietytaughtusaslittlegirlsthatwe’renotbeautifulbecausewe’renotwhiteandskinny.Imean,didyoueverhaveaBarbiedollthatlookedlikeyouwhenyouwereakid?”
“No.”
Shegivesmeapointedlook.“Exactly.Andallthesemassivecorporationsthattoldusweweren’tbeautiful—thatweweren’tobjectsofaffection—aresuddenlyscreamingatustoloveourselves.”
“Andifwedon’tloveourselves,allthetime,we’retheproblem.”Inod,comingtoastarkrealization.Ibecamepartofthatmachine,sellingthatideatomyfollowers.
AftermysessionwithRhonda,Ireturntomyapartmentandlieonthelivingroomfloor,staringattheceiling.Tobehonest,Ican’tevenrememberwhenIfirstheardthetermsbodypositivityandself-love.I’mguessingitwasaroundthetimeIstartedmyfitnessplatform.Ilatchedontothosetermswithallmymight,becauseIthoughttheywerepowerful.OfcourseIdeservetolovemyself.Screwsociety,Ithought.
TakingmyownadvicefrommyrecentInstagrampost,IgrabapieceofpaperandmakealistofallthethingsIlikeaboutmyself.NotjustthethingsIlikebecausesocietyhasdeemedthemvaluable.IalsomakealistofthethingsIdon’tlike.
Interestingly,my“Likes”lististwiceaslongasmy“Dislikes”list.Ialsoputabunchofthingsintobothlists.Istareatthelistsasitallbeginstoseepin.
Confidenceandloveforyourselfareever-changing.I’mallowedtofeelgoodsometimes,andnotsogoodatothertimes.Who’stotellmeIshouldbeashamedfornotfeelingmybestafterbeinghumiliatedonlineonlydaysago?
Withthisinmind,Igetbackontrackwithmyworkoutsoverthenextfewdays,slowlybutsurely.EverytimeIreturntothegym,myconfidencereturns,piecebypiece.
I’mbeginningtorespecttheimageIseeinthemirror,evenifIdon’tloveitallthetime.Theotherday,IcaughtmyreflectionafterdoingachallengingsetofRomaniandeadlifts.Iactuallysmiled,notjustbecauseIwashavingagoodhairday,butbecauseIwasproudofmyself.AndthatwasprobablythehappiestmomentI’vehadinaverylongtime.
Ofcourse,therearesetbackswitheverystepforward.ButaslongasI’mhonestwithmyselfinmydarkmoments,aslongasI’mmovingforward,findinglittlewaystocounterthenegativewithpositive,that’sallIcanreallyaskfor.
7:30P.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“I’MSORRY”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Hi,everyone.Thispostishard.Ioweyouguysasincereapology.NotjustforbeingMIA.ButI’msorryaboutmySizePositivecampaign.I’msorryabouteverytimeItoldyoutoloveyourselfALLTHETIME.I’msorryaboutallthetimesIusedwordslike“bodypositivity”and“self-love.”Basically,I’mapologizingformyentireplatformupuntilnow.
Iamnolongeranadvocatefortermslike“bodypositivity”and“self-love.”Andhere’swhy:
GrowingupasachubbyhalfAsiangirl,Ineversawmyselfreflectedinthemediaasanobjectofaffectionorbeauty.Ididn’tconformtosocietalstandardsofbeauty.Iwasn’tsupposedtolovemyself.
Andthenitwaslikeaswitch.Theterm“bodypositivity”waseverywhere.Suddenly,popularbrandsthatpreviouslyonlyusedsize-zero,airbrushedmodelswereusingcurvierwomenintheirads.CurvyblondesweretellingmeIneededtoLOVEMYSELFandeverythingwouldbeokay.ThatIwasn’tallowedtohaveanyounceofself-doubt,ever.
Ofcourse,lovingyourselfistheultimategoal.I’mnotsayingnottoloveyourselfifyoudo(seriously,Irespectthatsomuch).Butthisconcepttakeslongerforsome.It’salifelongjourney.Ihatethisonusonpeoplewhosebodiesdon’tconformtosociety’sstandardstochangetheperceptionthat’sbeendrilledintoourheads.Suddenly,it’snotsociallyacceptabletofeelbadaboutyourself,ever.
I’msorry,butIcan’tsayIloveeveryrollandallmycelluliteallday,everyday.Atthesametime,Idon’tneedtoself-loatheandhatemyselfeither.It’saboutacceptingandrespectingyourself,whilerealizingthereissomuchmoretoyouthanjustyourbody.
Thingsaregoingtochangeonmyaccount.I’mstillgoingtobeofferingmyprograms,doingworkouttutorials,etc.Butmymessagewillbedifferent.Youwillnolongerseethecommentsectioninsomeofmyposts.Instead,ImadeaprivateFacebookgroupforallmyclientsandvettedfollowerstocongregate
Ireallyhopeyouguyswilljoinmeinmynewgroupandfollowalongfortheride.Crystal
Commentbytrainerrachel_1990:Ilovethis!!You’resoright.We’retaughttohateanythingthat’snotsociety’sbeautystandard,andthenatthesametime,we’rebeingtoldtosuckitupandloveitanywayandmadetofeelbadaboutit.
Commentbyfitnessgoalsbymadison:Wow.Thismessageissopowerful.I’malongfortheridewithyou.
Commentbygainz_gurlie:Crystalthisisamazing!!!!I’msogladyou’veembracedbodyrespect.
CommentbyDarcyChapman12:Imissyourposts.Ihopeyou’rebackforgood?chapterthirty-three
GRANDMAFLOFINALLYcajoledMartinintomovingintoherHoarderHouseofHorrors(asTaracallsit).Theplaceisstillpiledwithjunktotheceiling,butMartinconvincedhertothrowoutatleastsomeunnecessaryitems,includingbutnotlimitedtohercollectionofold,stainedlampshades(shewasconvincedshewouldmakeuseofthem),threeKitchenAidmixers(allunusedandinmintcondition),andtwodeluxebirdcages(sheneverownedbirds)tomakeroomforhisthings.
“How’sScottylately?”Martinaskswhilehackingathisovercookedsteak.
WhilemyparentsknowaboutmybreakupwithScottthankstoTara’sbigmouth,I’vebeenhesitanttosharethenewswithGrandmaFloandMartin,knowingtheywouldbedevastated.GrandmaFlowouldsurelylosehermarblesovertheprospectofmedyingallbymylonesome.
Ihaven’tseenScottinalmostaweekandahalf.Acknowledginghowlongit’sbeensinceI’vebeenabletotalktohimbringsmyentiremooddown.
AsproudasIamthatI’mfinallyseeingthelightattheendofthisshittunnel,I’mstartingtothinkmaybeScotthadapoint.Maybethiswouldhavebeeneasierwithhimbymyside.
BeforeI’mforcedtorespondtoMartin,Momdistractseveryonebyresettlingahigh-strungHillaryinherlap.“Nomoresteakforyou,”shesays,pokingHillaryintheback.
IzoneoutasthefamilychattersonaboutFloandMartin’supcominghoneymooninHawaii,aswellasMartin’sgreat-niece’sacceptanceintomedicalschool.AllIcanthinkaboutishowmuchImisshavingScottbymyside,hishandprotectivelysqueezingmythighunderthetable.
Whendinnerisover,IdriftontoGrandmaFlo’sricketydeckandsit,takingintheremainderoftoday’ssunshine.Imakeaconcertedefforttoavoiddirecteyecontactwiththeterrifyinglawngnomesscatteredaboutthelawn.Whenwewereyoung,ItookpleasureinconvincingTaratheywerealive,akintoChuckytheredheadedserialkillerdoll.I
Dadisquicktofollowmeoutside,beerinhand.“Didyoufindthesteakwasoverdone?”heasks,intypicalDadfashion.Healwaysopensaconversationwitharandomquestion.
Thesettingsuncastsaradiantgoldenlightoffthebrownlawn,desperateforsomeraininthisparticularlydrysummer.“Yeah.Butitwasokay.”
Henods,staringstraightaheadashetakesaseatinthelawnchairbesidemine.“DidIevertellyouhowIstartedmycleaningcompany?”
Iletoutanexaggeratedbreath.RightwhenIstarttogetmymojoback,Dadhastoswoopinwithalectureaboutfinancialstability.“Dad,Ireallydon’twanttohearanothersermonaboutgettingarealjob.”
Heignoresme,wavingavaguehand.“I’djustfinishedhighschool.Didn’thavethemoneyforcollege.Iwasworkingatthelaundromatdowntownonenightwhenyourmomcamein.”Hepauses,eyesfillingwithnostalgia.“Shewaswithoneofhergirlfriends.Herhairwasteased,allbushylikeapoodle.Itwasthestylebackthen,”hesays,nudgingmewithhisarmbeforetakinganotherswigofhisbeer.
“Anyway,shemadeeyecontactwithmeandsmiled.SoIsmiledback.Ithoughtshewasbeautiful.Outofmyleaguecompletely.”Achipmunkscurriesacrossthedeckandhurlsitselfoffthefarend.“Ithinkitwasfivedayslaterwhenshecameback.Shedidn’thaveanylaundrywithherthistime.Ithoughtmaybesheforgotsomethingfromlasttime.Butshewalkedstraightuptomeandaskedmeonadate.”
Isnort.IcandefinitelypictureMomdoingthat.Despiteherquietdemeanor,shegoesafterwhatshewants,elbowsout,headfirst.
“Ihadfortydollarstotaltomyname.Butshewantedtogoonadate,soItookhertoMcDonald’sandboughtheracombo.Thensheheldmyhandandkissedme.”Heshudderswithsoft,easylaughter.
“Classic.”MycheekswarmattheforeignthoughtofayoungMomandDadkissinginaMcDonald’s.
“Afterthatday,IknewIwantedtomarryher.”
IthinkaboutbeinginScott’sarms,knowingIwantedtospendtherestofmylifewithhim,nomatterwhatitlookedlike,nomattertheobstacles.“Whatdoesthishavetodowithyourcleaningbusiness?”
Heputshishandup.“I’mgettingtoit.OnoneofthefirsttimesItookyourmothertoanicerestaurant,Iwaslate.ShewasalreadytherewhenIarrived.ItoldthewaiterIwasmeetingmygirlfriend,andhegavemeastrangelookandsaid,‘She’snothere’IonlyhadtolookoverhisshoulderbeforeIsawthetopofyourmom’sheadintheboothacouplerowsback.Iwavedather,andhegavemealookI’llneverforget.Hesaid,‘Thatcan’tbeyourgirlfriend’Hedidn’tsayittobecruel.Hewasgenuinelyconfused.Thishappenedallthetime,especiallyinthosedays.Peopledidn’tunderstandhowawhitewomanwoulddateanAsianman.”
Isuckinadeepbreath,shocked.I’dneverthoughtaboutitbefore.AsahalfChinese,halfwhitewoman,I’veexperiencedracismandignorantcomments,askingsomebluntvariationofWhatareyou?ButI’veneverbeentoldIcan’tdatesomeonebecauseofit.
“Ididn’tknowthat,”Isay,resettlinginmyseat.
Hemeetsmyeyesagain.“Yourmomusedtothinksubtleracismdidn’texist.Butitdid.Wehadalotofcommentsfrompeople,littlejokesevenfromourownfriendsthatweren’tsupposedtobeinsulting.Buttheywere,becauseitreinforcedthefactthatmenotbeingwhitewassomethingtheythoughtaboutwhenevertheylookedatus.Evenyourmom’sparentswerealittlehesitantatfirst.”
“ButGrandmaFlolovesyou,andsodidGrandpa.”
“Afterawhile,”headmits,runninghishandoverhischin.“IfeltlikeIhadtodomorethanawhiteguytowinthemover.Itdidn’thelpthatIdidn’thavetwodimestorubtogether.SoIstartedthebusiness…almosttoprovetomyselfIwasgoodenoughforher.”
Imeethiseyes,unabletoacceptthis.Myheartbreaks,thinkingabouthowsomeonesoconfidentlikeDadcouldfeelunworthybecauseofhisrace.Nothingcouldbefurtherfromthetruth.“Butyouwereenough.Youalwayswere.”
“That’swhatshetoldme.Shedidn’tunderstandwhyI’dletitgetmedownsomuch.Wearguedaboutit.ButeventuallyIrealized,nomatterwhat,peoplearegoingtobecruel.AndifIwantedtoliveapositivelife,IneededtodowhatIcouldtoprotectmyself.”
“Likewhat?”Iask.
“Notallowingbigotsintomylife.Speakingupwhensomeonesayssomethingoffensive.Butthere’sadifferencebetweenspeakingupandlettingtheirignorancehavepoweroveryou.”Hesighs.“Tookawhiletocometotermswith.ButIdidn’tneedanyone’sapproval,nordidIneedtofeedintonegativityandletitdefineme.”
ThewordsIdidn’tneedanyone’sapprovalreverberateinmymind.Scottsaidthistoo,butitfeelsdifferentcomingfromDad.Someonewho’sactuallybeentheonepeoplehaveaproblemwith—theonewhodoesn’tfitsociety’sstringentmold.I’dbeennaiveenoughtothinkIwastheonlyonegoingthroughthis.ThatnooneelsecouldunderstandwhatIwasfeeling.
Hecontinues.“Butthebiggestthingthatgotmethroughitallwasyourmother.Sure,Icouldhavedoneitalone.ButitwasalighterburdenwhenIletherin.Shedidn’talwaysunderstand.Butshetriedto.Shelistened.AndshehelpedmeseethepositivewhenIwasdown.Shewasmyrock.Stillis.”
Isquintathim.“Iknowwhyyou’retellingmethis.”
Heshrugsinnocently,winkingashetakesasipfromhisbeer.“I’mjusttellingyouoneofmystories.Whetheryourelateittoyourownlifeisyourprerogative.”Hestandsuptopullmeintoahug.
Whenhisarmswraparoundme,myeyesbegintowaterasIrealizeI’mface-to-facewithsomeone,myownfather,who’sgonethroughwhatI’mgoingthrough.Andhe’scomeoutontheotherside.Hedidn’tlethateruinhim,orhisloveforMom.Itmadethemstronger.Together.
“Don’tletanyoneelsedictateyourworth.Ever.Notevenyouroldmanwhenheharpsonyoutogetajob.Andespeciallynotstrangers,”hesays,steppingbacktohandmearandomtissuefromhispocket.
“Dad?”Iask,sniffling.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Ihateitwhenyoubringupmegettingajob.I’mhappyaboutwhereI’vetakenmybusiness.Especiallylately.Idon’tneedtheconstantcritique.”
Hefreezesmomentarilybeforelettingoutasigh.“Iknow.”
“Thenwhydoyoudoit?”
Hebowshishead,kickingatadriedleafnearhisfeet.“I’msorry.Ididn’tthinkIwashurtingyou.IthoughtIwashelping.”
“You’renot,though.Ithinkourideasofsuccessandstabilityareverydifferent.”
“Thenwe’llagreetodisagree.Ipromisetostopwiththecomments.Ihaven’tbroughtitupsinceyoulaiddownthelawatthewedding,haveI?”
“No.AndIappreciateit.”
Hestands,pattingmyshoulder.“Anyway,rememberwhatIsaid.You’renotalone.AndIamsoproudofyouandthewomanyou’vebecome.”
“Thanks,Dad.”Ilingeronthedeckashestepsbackinside,replayinghiswords.
HadDadsuccumbedtothoseuglycommentsandletthemdefinehim,heandMomneverwouldhavehappened.Theyneverwouldhavehadtheirso-calledbotched,yetperfectweddingintherainrighthereinGrandmaFlo’sbackyard.Theyneverwouldhavehadtheireventfulhoneymooninabedbug-riddenhotelintheAdirondacks.TheyneverwouldhavehadTaraandme.Orthirtyfullyearsofabeautifullifetogether.
ThelifeIcouldhavewithScott.ThelifeIdesperatelywant.chapterthirty-four
DOESN’TLOOKLIKEthere’sanysignofsmoke.Thoughtthiswasafirecall?”Scott’sfamiliar,huskyvoiceechoesthroughtheemptygym.
Ihadn’texpectedScottandthefirecrewtoarriveatExcaliburFitnesssofast.AssoonasIspottedtheredtruckpullingupoutside,Iboltedintotheutilityclosetintheyogaroom.
Icrouchinacloakofdarkness,peekingthroughthetinycrackinthedoor,likethetruecreeperIam.MyheartpoundsasIwillmyselftoremainstone-still.ThemountainofyogamatsbesidemethreatenstotoppleoverandburymealiveseeminglyeverytimeIbreathe.Itdoesn’thelpthatthebroomhasfallenover,whackingmeontheheadonthreeseparateoccasionsinthespanofaminute.Whoknewgrandgesturescouldbesodangerous?
WhenIstartedplanningthis,Iknewitneededtobeelaborate.Scottdeservesit,aftereverythingI’veputhimthrough.IneedtoprovetohimthatI’msorry.ThatI’llneverletfearandinsecuritydictateourrelationshipagain.ThatIlovehimtoo.WhenIstumbledacrossold,unusedfootagefrommyworkouttutorials,Iknewexactlywhattodo.
“Maybeit’sjustafaultyalarm,”adeepvoiceIknowtobeTrevor’sresponds.
ThankstoTrevor,thisentirecrazyplanhasbeenmadepossible.Andsurprisingly,hewasbeyondextraaboutit,meticulouslyanalyzingallpossibilitiesandbackupplansfromstarttofinishtoensureaflawlessexecution.Forawomanizerwhorecoilsattheveryideaofamonogamousrelationship,Trevorisaclosetromantic.It’sunfortunateallhistalentiswasted.
“Whatisthis?”Scottasks,voicegrowingcloser.
Whenheavyfootstepsentertheyogaroom,mythroatdriesandconstricts.Scottisinfullgear.Ithinkmysoulhasleftmybody.Thoughacrackinthedoordoesn’tgrantmeafullview,he’sfartoosexyforhumaneyes.Noteventhemassive,thickjacketandpantscandisguisehistowering,broadphysique.Hetakeshishelmetoff,settingitunderhisarm,revealingthatlong,pushed-backhairflowIdrooledoveruponfirstsightofhim.
Hisexpressionisoneoffocusandconfusionashestudiesthewall.Theprojectiontakesupthemajorityofthefarwallwiththepicture.Thepicturethatruinedeverything.Thepictureofusonthebeach.Thepicturethatmadenationalnews.
HeshootsanaccusatoryglareatTrevor.“Isthissomesortofmessed-upjoke?”
Trevorshakeshishead,givingKevinaconspiratorialglance.“Justgiveitaminute.”
Scottglaresatthem,gesturingtothephoto.“Thisisasetup,isn’tit?Areyouguystryingtostageaninterventionorsomeshit?IknowI’vebeendepressed,butthisis—”
“Stopbeinganassholeandwatch,”Trevororders,quicklylosingpatience.HereachesfortheremoteonthelittleprojectortableandclicksPlaybeforesaunteringintothedarkhallwaywithKevinandtherestofthecrew.
Thevideobeginstoroll.Thebeachphotodisappears,replacedwithavideoofmelookingintothecamera.
“Hey,Scott.”Myvoicefillstheroom.“I’msorrytodragyouhereundersuchmysteriousanddramaticcircumstances.Iknowwedidn’tleavethingsonagoodnote.Iamtrulybeyondsorryforhurtingyou.Iknowthiswholethingmadeyoudoubtmyfeelingsforyouandmytrustinyou.IhaveacouplethingsIneedtosaytoyou.Butfirst,takealook.”
Thevideocutstoaclipofmedoingcablerows.It’stheperfectshot,untilalargefigurewalksinfrontofthecamera,blockingthemajorityofthescreen,saveforhalfmyface.
“Here.Soyoudon’tforgettowipedowntheseat.”Scott’seyeswidenwhenherecognizeshisownvoice.
Whenheexitstheframe,I’mleftsittingonthecablebench,justblinking.WhatIdidn’tknowatthetime,whichhelateradmitted,washowmuchhewantedtocontinuetalkingtome.“Ihadnocluehowtocontinuetheconversationwithoutsoundinglikeamassivecreepandembarrassingmyselfbeyondrepair.SoIwalkedaway,”he’dtoldmeonenightaswereminiscedabouthowwefirstmet.
Thevideocutstomeonthematdoinganabworkout.Scottwatchesindisbeliefwhenhisownfigureenterstheshot,kneelinginfrontofmewiththatcockygrin.“Whatdidyoudowithmyphone?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”Isay,sittingup.We’relockedinaface-to-faceglareforafewmomentsbeforethebantercontinueson.There’samassivesmileonmyface,whichshockedmeuponfirstseeingthefootage,becauseIwassureIwasgivinghimafiercestare-downatthetime.
Thevideokeepsgoing,evenduringthetimesitgoesblackwhenheputmyphoneinhispocket.I’mbugginghimaboutTinderandaskinghimtojustifywhyheneedshisphone.Thenwe’rebarteringtogiveourphonesback.Thevideocutsonastillofhisface,closeup,whenherefusedtorelinquishit,choosinginsteadtocreeponmyInstagramtofindoutmyname.
Thenthevideoswitchestoaworkoutwedidtogethersomeweeksafterweagreedtothethree-monthrule.Ithinkwemusthaveforgottenthecamerawasonus
We’rerecoveringonamat,legssplayedinfrontofus,justshootingtheshit,aswealwaysdid.I’mcallinghimananti-vaxxer(whichhefiercelydenies)andbugginghimabouthowIkickedhisassinburpees(whichIdid).Icanbarelybreathe,bothfromtheworkoutbutalsobecausehe’sgrinninguncontrollablyatme.Thevideostops,frozenontheshotofmemid-laugh.
Then,thevideoswitchestoamontageofScottmakingfunnyfacesatthecamerabeforegettingseriousandshootingmyworkouts.Thereareafewshotsofhimgivingmeakiss,andevenonewherewe’retryingtotakeaphototogetheronmycouch,notrealizingitwasonvideomode.
ThevideotransitionstoasessionwithMel.IwasdocumentingMel’spush-upform.It’sfromthedayafterwefoundoutMartinwashealthy.ThecamerapanstoScottacouplefeetaway,doingboxjumps.“Hi,babe,”Icallout.Myhandenterstheshot,wavingathim.
ThecamerapansbacktoMel,whogivesmeafunnysmile.“Youguysaretoocute.”
Mychucklefillstheroom.“Stop.”
“Youlovehim,”Melteases.
“Ido,”Isay.Ithenswitchthecameramodeontomysmilingface.“Ilovehim.”
Scottappearsstunned.He’sstaringatthescreen,captivated,asmorevideoandphotosrollbyofusatFloandMartin’swedding.Thenthephotoofusatthebeachreappears.
HeturnsinmydirectionwhenIcracktheclosetdooropen.Atthatprecisemoment,thebroomfalls,whackingmeontheheadyetagainasIemergefrommyhidingspot.chapterthirty-five
HE’SLIKEAfrozenstatue.Adeerintheheadlights.Noteventhefactthattheyogamatsspilledoutoftheclosetlikeanavalanchefazeshim.Hisgazedartsfrommetotheprojectedvideoonthegymwall.
“Ihavesomeexplainingtodo.”Itwistmyfingerstogether,unabletofightmynerves,whileprayingmybroom-inducedinjurywon’tturnintoagooseegg.AnysenseofchillIhadiscompletelygone.“Firstandforemost,Iloveyou.AndIhatethatInevertoldyouwhenyouasked,becauseitwasthetruth.I’velovedyouforanembarrassinglylongtime,asyousawinthevideo.”
Mygazefollowsthebobinhisthroatasheswallows.Helookslikehe’sincompleteanguish.Infact,I’mconvincedhe’sabouttoturnaroundandwalkawayfrommeforgood.Buthedoesn’t.Hestaysinplaceanddipshischinformetocontinue.
Ihadmyentirespeechprepared,butnowthathe’srightinfrontofme,allmythoughtsstreamthroughlikewaterfromaburstingdam.Whatever’sabouttocomeoutofmymouthisgoingtobeanythingbutsmooth.
“Thetruthis,whathappenedwasmorethanjusttheviralphoto.Growingup,IhadthisweirdcomplexwhereIneverfeltquitegoodenough.Anditwasn’tonlybecauseofmysize.Itwaseverything.IneverthoughtIwasgoodenoughatsports,orsmartenoughforschool,orfunnyenoughformyfriends.”Ipausetotakeinabreath.“ThatallchangedabitwhenIstartedbuildingmyplatform.Istartedgainingacceptancefromcompletestrangers,andIthought,wow,Ireallylovemyselfnow.”
HisfacesoftensmoreandmoreasIcontinuetoramble.
“I’vetriedtodedicatemyplatformtohelpingpeoplefeeltheoppositeofhowI’vefelt.ItwaslikeanescapefromhowIwastrulyfeelinginside,especiallywhenIwaswithNeil.Anditworked,forthemostpart…”Iwringmyhandsinfrontofme,unabletostopfidgeting.“Butasmyplatformgrew,thecommentskeptgettingworse.Ididn’twanttosayanything.I’vepreachedtheentiretimetoignorehaters.Itbecameanobsession,becauseIwasdesperatetochangepeople’sminds.Iwasdesperatetoprovemyself,inaway,andIletitbecomemyidentity.”
Scotttakesasmallstepforward,asifhewantstosaysomething.Buthedoesn’t.Hejustletsmespeak.
“Whenthephotoblewup,itwaslikeamanifestationofeverythingIwasafraidof.Thatsomehow,Iwasn’tworthy.I’msorryIdidn’tconsideryourfeelings.I’msorryIdidn’tacknowledgehowawfulitwasforyoutoo.Iwasbeingselfish.Completely.”Henods,whichItakeasacceptance.“Iunderstandwhyyouwereworriedaboutmeandwhyyourespondedtothosecomments.AndIthinkI’vefiguredoutacompromise.Awaytodisengagefromthenegativity,whilestillhavingapersonalconnectionwithmyclientsandsupporters.”
“Good,I’mgladtohearthat,”hesaysgenuinely,stillkeepinghisdistance.
“Scott,IknowIcannevermakeituptoyou.IttookmelongerthanitshouldhavetorealizethatItrustyoumorethananyone.ItwasmyselfIdidn’ttrust,becauseIwasholdingmyselftoanunattainablestandard.AndIknowthatnow.”Ipause.“Irealized…lovingmyselfisn’trealisticatalltimes.I’mallowedtofeelself-consciousandsadattimes,butalsoconfidentandhappyatothertimes,aslongasI’macceptingandrespectingmyself.AndIwantyouonmyteam.”
Hereadjuststhehelmetunderhisarm.“That’salottoworkthrough.I’mreallyproudofyou.”Histoneissoftandgenuine.“Butfortherecord,itwaswrongofmetorespondtothecomments.I’vefeltlikeshitaboutitfordays.IknowhowpassionateyouareaboutyourplatformandIneverwanttostandinthewayofthat.Ioverreactedbecauseofmyownexperienceasakid.ButInevershouldhaveprojecteditontoyou.Iknowyoucanhandleityourself.”
“You’realreadyforgiven.”
Herunshishandoverhisstubble.“I-Ican’tbelieveyoustagedafirecall.”Heturnstothewindowwherethecrewarenot-so-subtlywatchingourexchange.“Youguyswereallinonthis?”
Theynodandeachgiveanenthusiasticthumbs-up.
“IthinkthisisthemostextrathingI’veeverdone,”Iadmitwithahalflaugh,fightingtheurgetoreachoutandtouchhim.Tofeelhishugearmsaroundme.“Iknowthisisalottotakein.”Heopenshismouthtospeak,butIcontinue.“IwantedtotellyouhowmuchIloveyouandthepersonyouare.IknowIshouldhavetoldyouearlier,whenIfirstrealizedit.Imissyourstupidpickuplines.Imisswatchingmoviesalonewhenyoufallasleepbesideme.AndImisslaughingwithyouuntilwecry.”
“Youreallymissmypickuplines?”Aflickerofthatcockygrinreturns,butonlyforafleetingsecond.Herocksbackonhisheelsbeforeinchingforward,toweringoverme,justashedidthatfirstdaywemetwhenhewascallouslystealingmysquatrack.Heatradiatesfromhisbody.
“Ido.Eventheworstones.”
Thesmolderingsmirkisback.Evenhisdimplesmakeanappearance.It’sunderstated,asifhe’sgenuinelybothrelievedandhappy.
ThemomentIsmile,thecreasesonhisforeheadsoften.Anylingeringtensionleaveshisjaw.There’snodoubt,hisentirebeingismagnetic.Somuchso,myfeetinstinctivelymovetowardhim.
Hedoesn’tstepbackfromme.Infact,herushesforward,bridgingthegap,hisstrongarmsfoldingmeintohistightembrace.Hecupsmyfaceinhishands,beamingintomyeyesbeforehebendstocapturemylipswithhis.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck,pullinghimclosertome.
Thefeelingofhislipsagainstmine,afterallthistimeapart,islikethatfirstdropofwaterhittingyourtongueafterakillerCrossFitworkout.Hiskissisarevival.It’sfulloflife,relievingmeofallthechaosandnoisespiralingaroundmymind,cripplingmeforfartoolong.Italljuststopswhenhetouchesme,settlingintoperfectserenity.It’squiet.It’scrystalclear.Icanhearallofmyownthoughts,forthefirsttimeinyears.
WhenScottrestshisforeheadagainstmine,Iwhisper,“I’msorryittooksolong.”
Hepresseshisindexfingertomylips.“Iwouldhavewaitedforeverforyou.Iloveyou.”chapterthirty-six
DESPITEMYCINEMATICgrandgesture,ScottandIaren’tabletogallopintothestarrynight,handinhand.He’sobligatedtocompletehisfullshift,likearesponsiblehuman.Butit’sfine,becauseimmediatelyafterhisshiftends,he’satmydoor,lushgreeneyesquiteliterallysparkling,withabrand-newcartonofclementinestuckedunderhisarm.
Imarinateinthesightofhiminhiswell-fittedT-shirt,bicepsprominentlikethoseofamythicalgod.Heleansagainstmydoorframewithhiscocksuregrin,asifhe’sneverevenleft.
“Youknow,youdon’thavetobuytheseformeallthetime,”Isay,eventhoughIneverwanthimtostopforaslongashewalkstheearth.
“Ido.Whoelseisgonnapeel’emforme?”Heflashesmeamesmerizingsmileashestridesin,settingthecartononthecoffeetable.Hepauses,wavingahandtothetelevisionscreen,whichhasTheGodfather,yetanotherridiculouslylongmovie,queuedupandreadyforourviewingpleasure.“Iseeyoualreadyselectedourentertainment.”
“Yup.ThoughIgiveyouanhourbeforeyoufallasleep.Tops.”Isteptowardhim,myentirebodywhirringwithsuppressedenergy,desperatetoexplode,nullifyingallthenegativityI’mleavingbehind.
Hesmirks,closingthegaptobringmeintothewarm,secureblanketofhisembrace.Inreturn,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhistorsolikeakoala,silentlytellinghimI’mneverlettinggo.MykneesthreatentogiveoutasIbaskinhisfamiliaralluringscent,freshlaundryandsoap.
Hepressesasoftkisstomytemple.“Butyoustillloveme.”
“Idoloveyou.”Iperma-smilethemomentthewordstumbleout,becauseIalreadycan’twaittosaythemagain.Overandover.
Hisdimplesareprominentasherunsthepadsofhisfingersdownmybackside,givingmeafirmsqueeze.“Hey,you’vebeenspendingsomeextraqualitytimewiththewindowrack,haven’tyou?”
“Ihadtodosomethingtofillmytime.Itwasactuallynice,havingitalltomyself.Withoutyoustealingitonme.”
Hisbrowcocksandhetreatsmetoanevenfirmersqueeze.“Oh,right.Mysincerestregrets.Iforgottherackwasoff-limitstoeveryoneexceptCrystalChen.”
“Hey,thatdayIclaimeditfairandsquare,”Iremindhimwithateasingpoketothechest.“It’snotmyfaultyoudidn’tseemystuff.”
Hetriestosuppresshisamusement.“Okay,confessiontime.Imighthaveseenyourstuffthereandstolenitanyway.”
Iclapahandovermymouth,halfvindicated,halfscandalizedattherevelation.“Iknewit!”
Hischestvibrateswithsunnylaughterashesplayshisfingersthroughmyhair,cradlingthebackofmyhead,hisotherhandsettlingonmycheek.“I’dshownupatExcaliburtwentyminutesbeforethat.I’dneverbeentherebeforeandwasn’treallysureaboutit.Itwasalmostdoublethepriceofthegymdownthestreet.ButIwasinarushtosqueezeinaworkoutbeforemyshift,soIthoughtI’djustpayforadaypass.”Hecapturesmewithaseriousgazeandcontinues.“RightwhenIwasabouttopay,Isawyou.Youwerecoolingdownonthetreadmillandyouweresofuckingstunning.Iwasallflusteredlikeakid.PrettysureItriedtotapthecreditcardmachinewithmydriver’slicense.Notmyfinestmoment.”
“Ican’tbelievethat…”Imanagethroughtheshockofhisrevelation.HeadmittedhewasattractedtomefromthebeginningwhenIvisitedhimatwork,butIneverknewhe’dnoticedmebeforethesquatrackincident.
Isuckinabreathashegrazesmybeautymarkwithhisthumb.“IknewI’dbeagonerthemomentIfirsttalkedtoyou.AndIwas.So,afterIfinishedmysquats,Iwentbacktothefrontdeskandaskedfortheyearlongmembershipinsteadofthedaypass.”
“Verypresumptuousofyou.”
Hearrowsaknowinglookatme.“Iknowmytype.”
“Andwhat’sthat?”Iaskasmyfingerstracethehardridgesofhisback.
“Strong-willed,confident,kind,andchallenging.”Asoftlaughescapeshim.“MymomsaysIhaveathingforanythingguaranteedtobeamassivepainintheass.”
Iburymysmileinhischestandinhalehiscalmingscentbeforesneakingaglanceupward.“Youknow,evenifyouneverwenttomygym,wewouldhavemetanywaythroughFloandMartin.”
Hetiltshishead,takingitin.“That’strue.Itwasmeanttobe.ThoughIdidhavefunbuggingtheshitoutofyouatthegym…”
Iplayfullysqueezehisarm.“Howcomeyounevertoldmeyougotamembershipbecauseofme?”
“Because.I’djustgottenoutofarelationship.Iwasn’tsurehowyou’dreactbackthenifItoldyou.”
“Goodpoint.”
“ButIwasplanningonit.WasgonnasaveitforwhenIwasreallyinthedoghouse,”hesaysagainstmyear.
Heartmoreswollenthanasteroidbro’sbiceps,Ipressakisstothecornerofhismouth.“Iloveyou.Youknowmesowell.”
“Ialsoknowyoudon’treallywanttowatchamovierightnow.”
Itiltmyheadlikeaninnocentlambashefeatherslightkissesovermyneck.“Idon’t?”
“Nope.Imadeotherplans.”
“Likewhat?”
“Wehaveanintensefull-bodyworkoutscheduled.Forrightnow.”
MybodytinglesinanticipationasIpoorlyfeignhesitation,unabletoresistrunningmyhandsoverhischest,practicallyclawingathim.“Justhowintensearewetalking?”
“Highintensity.Multiplerounds.Nobreaks.”Hegivesmeadeadpanlookforalloftwosecondsbeforehislipscurlintoawickedgrin.Hisheatedgazelockstomineashemovesmebackward,downthehalltomybedroom,andontomybed.
Ismile,soakingupthesplendorashisbodymoldstomine,asifwe’veneverbeenapart.Likemusclememory.
I’veneverfeltmorelovedthanIdorightnowinthisverymoment,bymyselfandbyhim.
Imaynotbeeveryone’scupoftea,andneitherisScott.Welaughatstupidthings.We’dratherdiethanputonrealclothesandleavethehouse,unlessit’stogotothegym.Therearenotheatrics.Nocrazy,impulsive,fairy-taleadventures.
It’ssimplyus,dayinanddayout,doinglifetogether.Andeverydayisanewpersonalbest.epilogue
CURVYFITNESSINSTAGRAMMERSPEAKSOUTAGAINSTBODY-SHAMERS,INSPIRINGWOMENAROUNDTHEWORLD
InAugust,fitnessInstagrammerCrystalChenpostedasweetphotowithhernewboyfriend,ScottRitchie,whohappenstohaveasix-pack.WhatCrystaldidn’texpectwastheonslaughtofbacklashthatfollowed.
“Thevastmajorityofthecommentswerenothingbutlovingandsupportive.ButIhadtosiftthroughalotofawfulmessages.SomesaidScottwasonlywithmeformymoney,orthathewascheatingonme,”shetellsBuzzFeedNews.
Chenmovesontosay,“I’mhuman.Ifeltguiltylettingthehatersaffectme,becauseIhadjustlaunchedmySizePositiveplatformwhichpreachedself-love,nomatteryourbodytype,race,orability.
“Thetruthis,Inolongerusetermslike‘bodypositivity’and‘self-love.’Instead,Inowuse‘bodyrespect’and‘self-acceptance.’Why?BecauselovingyourselfALLTHETIMEisunrealistic.Weallhavedayswherewedoubtourselves.Andthat’swhenweneedtofocusonacceptanceandrespectforourselves,nothateorlove.Icanlovemybodyandstillhavemomentsofdoubtwithoutfeelingguiltyaboutit.I’msickofbeing‘toofat’forsociety,andthendemonizedifIdon’t‘lovemyselfanyway.’It’sanunhealthycycle,andittookthisexperiencetoseeit.
“Scottreceivedalotofhatetooafterthephotowasposted.Messagesfrompeopletellinghimhecoulddobetter,callinghima‘chubbychaser.’Healsogotpraisedfor‘seeingmybeauty’beyondsize.It’sanicesentiment,buthelovesmybody.HetellsmeI’mbeautifulevenwhenI’masweatymessatthegym,orwhenI’vejustwokenup.AndIlovehimevenmoreforit.Andthebestpart:Iknowit’strue.I’vealwaysknownit.
“It’seasytosay‘Oh,thehatersarejustjealousandmiserable.’Maybethat’strue.It’sashamepeoplecan’tseebeyondsize,orcolor,orclass.Andit’stakentimetorealizethatIcan’tsingle-handedlychangepeople’sminds.”
Crystalgoesontoexpresshopethatherstorywillinspireothers.“Iwanteveryonewhodoesn’tconformtomainstreambeautystandardstoknowthattheyareworthyofanepiclovestorytoo.Weallare.”
*Editor’snote:Sinceconductingthisinterview,Chenmadetheannouncementtohernow650,000followersthatsheandRitchieareengaged,settobemarriednextspring.Forshotsoftheintimateproposalandcustomring,besuretovisitherInstagramaccount.
8:34P.M.—INSTAGRAMPOST:“DOESTHISRINGMAKEMELOOKENGAGED?”BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:
Todaystartedofflikemostnormaldays.Mypup,Albus,triedtohumpmylegasIinterpretivedancedaroundmykitchento“Soulmate”byLizzo(yournewanthem,you’rewelcome).Then,ScottandIwenttothegymforlegday.
Aftermyworkout,Istartedfilmingatutorialonhipthrusters.Mid-video(whichwasgoingflawlessly),Scottrandomlyintrudedintomyshotwithafunnysmile.Ipromptlyscoldedhimfortarnishingmyvideo(historically,thisishismodusoperandiwhenhewantstoaggravateme).Iwasabouttothreatenlegalaction,butthenhegotdownononekneeandbustedoutaring.
Hesaidamillionamazinglysweetwords(swipetoseethevideo).Apparently,hestressedbeforehand,thinkingmaybeheshoulddosomethingmoreelaborate.Butitwasperfect.Itwassocompletelyus.
AfterIsaid(shrieked)YES,bothourfamiliesburstoutofthebackroomofthegym,wherethey’dbeenimpatientlyhidingoutforoveranhour.Ithinkthiswillgodownasoneofthehappiestmomentsofmylife.Sofar.Crystal
CommentbyMelanie_inthecity:Iamdeceased.MYBABIESAREENGAGED!!!*breathesintopaperbag*
CommentbyBostonKelly89:Thatringisstunning.Iamsosohappyforyougirl.MeetmeinFijiforyourhoneymoonCommentbySamantha_Tay1991:OMGthatvideotho…helovesyousomuch.You’remeantforeachother!
CommentbyFairyDustWeddings:DMusforweddingcollabs!Xo
CommentbyRitchie_Scotty7:You’resobeautiful.Insideandout.Iwillneverstoptryingtooutdothatmomentjusttoseeyousmile.Ican’twaittospendtherestofmylifewithyou,untilwe’re90inmatchingtracksuitsatthegym.Iloveyouforever,Crys.acknowledgments
PublishingSetonYouwithamajorpublishinghousewasapipedreamIneverimaginedpossible.ItisanunderstatementtosayIcouldn’thavedoneitwithoutthesupport,love,andexpertiseofsomanypeoplealongtheway.
ThankyoutoKimLionetti,myrockstaragent,whoisastaunchadvocateofsomanylovestorieswrittenbydiverseauthors.Iameternallygratefulforallyoursupport,guidance,expertise,andwillingnesstoanswerallofmyrandomquestionsthroughoutthisprocess.Iwillforevercredityoufortakingachanceonmeandmakingmydreamscometrue.IstillpinchmyselfwheneverIseeyournameinmyinbox.ThankyousomuchtotherestoftheamazingBookEndsLiteraryteam.
Iambeyondthankfultomydreameditor,KristineSwartz,forbelievinginthisstoryandchampioningiteverystepoftheway.Oneofmyfearswasthatsomeonewouldn’tunderstandthenuancesofmycharacterandherlivedexperienceasabiracialChinesewoman.Ican’tunderscoreenoughhowmuchI’vecherishednotonlyyourexpertise,butyourpersonalconnectiontothesecharacters.ThankyoutotheincrediblytalentedBerkleydreamteamformakingmyveryfirstpublishingexperiencesoseamless.
Tothebookstagramcommunity,wheremyloveofcontemporaryromancebegan:Onecannotunderestimatetheloyaltyandrallyingsupportofpeopleontheinternetyou’venevermet(whohavequicklyturnedintorealfriends).YourDMsexpressingexcitementformybooksmakemyday(no,mylife).ItisinthiscommunitywhereIfoundmyamazingbetaandsensitivityreaders.Specialthank-youtoKellyforyoureagleeye.Youhelpedmakethisbookwhatitistoday.
Iamsogratefulformywriterfriendsforallthesupportandfortalkingmeoffmultipleledges.Iamsoappreciativetothe#BerkletesforallthebellylaughsonDiscordwhileIshouldhavebeenwriting.YouarehandsdownthebestwriterfriendsIcouldeveraskfor.
Thankyoutomybestfriends,SamandRobin:Youtwoarethefirstpeoplewholayeyesonallofmygarbagefirstdrafts(sincerestapologies).YoutwoarewhoItextorcallwhenI’mspiralingoveraplotissue(asItendtodo).ThankyouforkeepingmywritingendeavorsasecretbeforeIhadthecouragetotellpeople.Sam,thankyouforreadingallmyridiculous,half-bakedstoriesforthepastfifteenyears.YouweremyfirstfanandIwillneverforgetit.
Tomyparents:First,Ihopethisistheonlypartofthebookyou’veread.Inallseriousness,IoweallthatIamtoyou.Iowemyloveofreadingtoyou.Thankyou,Dad,forspendingyourweekendswithmeinChapterswhileIhuntedtheaislesforMegCabotandV.C.Andrewsbooks.Thankyouforlettingmehogthefamilydesktopforhoursasakid,typingmyshortstoriesinComicSansfont.
Lastly,thankyoutomyhusband,John.Ican’ttellyouhowmuchIappreciateyourunwaveringsupportthroughthisjourney.You’veallowedmetoneglectyoutospendhoursfeverishlyhunchedovermylaptopwritingbeforeweevenknewthis“hobby”wouldleadanywhere.You’veputupwithmyanxiety(summer2020whenIwasonsubmission,lestweforget),myendlesstoilingoverplots,andevenmyobsessionwiththehotfictionalmenI’vecreated.ThankyouforalwaysbringingmefoodwhileIwrite,andfordutifullypeelingmyclementinesandremovingallofthepithlikeCrystaldoesforScott.Youaremyforeverromanceheroinspiration(alongwithChrisEvans,ofcourse).KeepreadingforasneakpeekatAmyLea’snextbook
ExesandO’s
ComingJanuary2023fromBerkley!EVERYTHINGISFINEEVERYTHINGISFINE.
ImentallyrepeatthatphraseasIhaulmyselfupthestairwelltomynewapartment.Tomynewlife.
It’sfinethatIgotmuggedonthesubway.It’sfinethatI’llneedtocancelallmycreditcards.It’sfinethatI’mmovingintoanewapartment,sightunseen.It’sfinethatitboastsachronicallybrokenelevator,eventhoughI’mastaunchproponentofasedentarylifestyle.IT’SALLFINE.
WhenIreachthethirdflight,Itakeamomentaryleanagainstthewobblyhandrail,balancingmyheart-shapedthrowpillows.Inbetweenwheezes,Iforcemymouthintoasmile,atrickIusetoresetwhenI’mspiralingintoanegativityvortex.
There’snoreasontohateonmybrand-newdigs.ItmaynotbetheRitz,butfromwhatI’veseenoftherundownorange-tiledentrywayandprobably-hauntedcementstairwell,it’sthenicestplaceIcanaffordonthedirectsubwaylinetothehospitalthatisn’taroach-infestedbasementapartment.
AsIpressonwardandupward,Iremindmyselfchangeisgood.Thismoveismorethanjusttheapartment.It’sanewchapterofmylife.Achancetostartanew,aftertenmonthsofwallowing,mourningthelifeIwassupposedtohavewithmyex-fiancé,Seth.
Thistimelastyear,Iwasblissfullyengaged,planninganelaborateCinderella-inspireddreamweddingfromthecomfortofourBeaconHillcondo.Then,sixmonthsbeforethewedding,SethdecidedtheseasonfinaleofSurvivorwasasgoodatimeasanytopickadramatic,WaroftheRoses-levelfight,concludinghe“couldn’ttoleratemeanymore.”
Thetribehadspoken.
SethReinhartwouldbethetenthmantobreakmyheart.
Startingmylifeoverwasatrip,tosaytheleast.ButaftermonthsoftherapyandstarfishingonCrystal’sfloor,I’vefinallycomeintomyown.
I’veembracedamorselofchange,startingwithaboldhaircut(abluntKhloéKardashianbob).Mybookstagramaccount—anichecornerofInstagramwhereliterature-obsessedfolksbondoverprettypicturesofbooks—isthriving.I’vesecuredmytrustedinnersocialcircleofexactlytwo—mysisterandMel—therespectiveCarrieandSamanthatomyCharlotte(eventhoughwe’reallprobablyMiranda).
MaybethisyearI’llsurpriseeveryoneandtakeupanewhobby,likelooming,archery,ormountainbiking.Sethalwaysresentedmylackofhobbies,asidefromreading.MaybeI’llpurchaseasucculent,orseven,andnamethemafterthevonTrappchildrenfromTheSoundofMusic
I’mreinvigoratedwithendlesspossibilitiesbythetimeIreachunit404.Somuchso,Iopentheunlockedapartmentdoorwithtripletheforcethannecessary,likeaprodancertakingcenterstage,makinganimpassionedentranceintomyshinynewlife.
ThemomentIenter,it’sclearthatthisnewchapterisnoimprovementfromthelast.Infact,it’sworse.
Beforemeisamagnificentlymuscled,entirelynakedtattooedmanbendinganauburn-hairedwomanoverthekitchenisland.
Welcomehome,Tara.
???
THINGSGOTITSupfromthere.Literally.
Iletoutabloodcurdlingscreechfromthedepthsofmygut,tossingmythrowpillowsintheair.Theauburn-hairedwomanyelps,endeavoringtocoveratleasthalfherenviablyamplebosom.Thetattooedmancursesanddivesforcoverbehindthebutcherblockisland,likeaWorldWarIsoliderundersiegeinthemuddytrenches.
Butit’stoolateforme.Isawit
Thepenisbelongingtomynewroommate,TrevorMetcalfe.
It’snotlikeIexpectedtocrossthethresholdintoaSexandtheCity-worthylifeoffabulousriches,cosmos,whirlwindromance,andgirlfriendswhoarereadilyavailabletodroptheirlivesatamoment’snoticewheneverdisasterstrikes.ButIwasnotexpectingthis
Normally,Iwouldn’tentertaintheprospectofmovinginwithastranger.Buttherentwascheap,Ihavestudentdebt,andanywherewaspreferabletomyparents’place,whereI’dbeforcedtocompeteforattentionwithHillary,Mom’sankle-biting,narcissisticchihuahua.Besides,TrevorisScott’sbestfriendandcoworkeratthefirehall.Ifigureditwassafetotrustmysoon-to-bebrother-in-law,butapparentlyyoucan’ttrustfamily.
“You’llneverseeeachotherwithyourshiftwork.It’llbethesameaslivingalone,”Scotthadassuredme.
Theillusionoflivingaloneseemedplausible,giventhatmineandTrevor’sconflictingschedulespreventedusfrommeetingpriortotoday.We’veonlyexchangedacoupletexts,whichconsistedofmerequestingthedimensionsofmynewroomformybookshelf.Nosmalltalk
Thetoplesswomangapesatme,justifiablypeevedIinterruptedherbigO.Asidefromdisappearingintothevoid,Idothenextbest,highlylogicalthing:mumbleavagueyetsincereapology,covermyeyes,andsprintawayintheonlydirectionpossible—downashorthallway.
“Thisisfine.It’sallfine,”Imutter,takingrefugethroughthefirstdoorontheright.Islamitshut,savoringtherelativecoolnessofthedooragainstmysearingskin.
Asanurse,Iseegenitalsaplenty,particularlyduringmystintintheERbeforeItransferredtotheneonatalward.Butmakingeyecontactwithalivehuman(amega-rippedhuman,tobeprecise)whileinthethroesofpassion,ameretenfeetaway,isafirst.
WhenslowingmybreathbecomesaHerculeantask,Itryatechniquemytherapisttaughtme.Takeinyoursurroundings.Noteeverythinglogically,withnojudgment.
I’minatiny,outdatedbathroom.It’swhitefromfloortoceiling,savefortheplushnavy-bluetowelhangingbehindthedoorandthematchinghandtowelnexttothesinkprobablybelongingtoamanwithanice,sizable—Nope.We’renotgoingthere.Focus,Tara.
Crackedyetcleanceramicsubwaytilesadornthewallinthegleamingglassshower.ForabathroomformerlysharedbyScottandTrevor,twothirty-somethingmen,it’simpossiblyclean.Irunmyindexfingeralongtherimofthesmoothporcelainsink.It’sspotless.Notastraymanhairorglobofdriedtoothpastetobefound.
Weakandweary,Iparkmyselfontheporcelainthrone.Ishouldprobablycommenceanewsearchforanotherplacetolive,buttheveryprospectofprobingthebowelsofCraigslistpromptsaheavinggag.Instead,IadministereyebleachintheformofTikTokvideosofbabyfarmanimalsuntilmyfeetloseallcirculation.
There’smovementoutsidethedoor.Footsteps.Hushedvoices.
Doomplaguesmygut.Ihavetofacethemusicatsomepoint.
Likeacoward,IdelaytheinevitablebyFaceTimingMel.
Sheanswersimmediately,preeningherultra-lushlashextensions.She’sacurvyinfluencer,likeCrystal.Exceptinsteadoffitness,Mel’sspecialtyisfashionandbeauty,andallthingsaestheticallypleasing.Today,ashimmerypurpleshadowsweepsacrosshereyelids,accentuatingherdarkeyes.Hercontourisalsoonpoint,showcasingherbonestructure.She’ssostunning,it’sfranklyoffensive.
Basedonthefloor-to-ceilingwindowbehindher,she’sathomeinherbougieapartmentintheTheaterDistrict.“Wherethehellareyou?”sheasks.
“I’mhidinginmynewbathroom,”Iwhisper.
“Whyarewewhispering?”Shelowershervoiceconspiratorially.
“Because.Ijustwalkedinonmynewroommate.Naked.”
Sheletsoutastrangledgaspandslapsahandoverherviolet-paintedlips.“Naked?Asin,assout?”
“Penisout.Actually,hewasmorethannaked.Hewasboninginthekitchen,”Iexplain,takingituponmyselftosnoopintheshower.
ThemomentIopentheheftyglassdoor,I’mhitwithamanly,far-too-sexyspicinessthat’ssurelyabiohazard.Isniffthebodywashtoconfirmtheoriginofthescentanditimmediatelyclearsmyairways.Cinnamonandcedarwood,accordingtothebottle.Nexttothebodywashisabasic,two-in-oneshampooandconditionercombo.
Pokingaroundavirtualstranger’sshowerfeelsillicit,buttechnicallythisismyshowernow.I’vealreadyseenthisman’snetherregions,sodoesitreallymatterifIknowhispreferredbrandoftoothpaste(ColgateMaxWhiteExpertComplete)?
“Jesus,takeme.”Melclaspsahandoverherchestandpretendstofaintonherchaise.Shequicklyrightsherself,fullyalertandreadytosiptheproverbialtea,whichshelikespipinghot.“Okay,tellmeeverything.OnascaleofDannyDeVitotoHenryCavill,howattractiveishe?Sparenodetail.”
“Iwasn’tlookingathisface.”Hisfacewasbutablur,onaccountofhisnakedbody,whichdefinitelyleansinfavoroftheCavillsideofMel’sscale.Thememorywillliveonforever,searedontomyretinas.
“Itakeityou’regonnahideinthereuntiltheendoftime?”
“Yes.IthinkI’lljustrotinhere.”Iexaminetheglitterysoapdispensernexttothesinkthatdoesn’tbelongamongtherestofthepractical,low-maintenanceproducts.It’slabeledToastedVanillaChai.Thisisawoman’stouchifIeversawone.Maybeitbelongstothebig-breastedauburn-hairedwoman.
AsMeltellsmeaboutatimesheaccidentallywalkedinonherparentsdoingthedirty,Iswiftlymoveontothemedicinecabinet.Beforeopeningit,Icatchmyhopefulreflectioninthemirrorandcringe.Whatwaspreviouslyaperkyponytailthismorninghassagged.Itrytighteningittoaddvolume,inadvertentlymakingitworse.There’szerovolumetobehadhere.Eachstrandisdeadslicktomyscalpandseverelypulledback,accentuatingmyshinyforehead.Ireallyneedtoblot.
Givinguponmyselfentirely,Iexplorethecabinet.Insideisanopenedpacketofassortedcoloredtoothbrushes,ashavingset,asinglerazor,abottleofshavingcream,Listerinemouthwash(CoolMint),andajumbobottleofTylenol
AsIpluckthebottlefromtheshelftoexaminetheexpirationdate(expiredinJuly2021),afloorboardcreaksinthehallway,rightoutsidethedoor.Panicked,IflingtheTylenolbackwhereIfounditandside-shuffleawayfromthesink.Afewbeatsofdeafeningsilencetickbybeforethere’saknock.
“Tara?”Trevor’svoiceisgravellyandbaritone.Veryaudiobook-worthy.
“Mel,Igottago,”Iwhisper,franticallyendingthecallbeforeshecanrespond.
“Youokayinthere?”heasks.
“Totallyfine.Morethanfine.Whywouldn’tIbe?”Yikes.IsoundlikeMinnieMouseonuppers.Imakeitapointtolowermyvoice.“Wassheyourgirlfriend?”
There’sabeatofsilence.“No.She’snotmygirlfriend.Shejustleft,bytheway.”
“Oh,”Isay,mildlydisappointed.Itwouldhavebeennicetohaveanotherwomanaround,likeanunofficialroommateofsorts,especiallysincethemajorityofCrystal’sandMel’stimeisdevotedtotheirrespectivelong-term,committedrelationshipsandfull-timethrivingInstagramcareers—bothofwhichIlack.WhileIlovebookstagram,it’sahobby,notacareer.
There’sanotherextendedsilencebeforeTrevorsays,“Listen,I’msorrywehadtomeetlikethat.Ididn’tthinkyouweremovinginuntillatertoday.Ifeellikeanasshole.”
Isinktothefloorbehindthedoor,noodlelegspulledtomychest.“It’sfine.Imean,it’syourapartmenttechnically.”
“It’shalfyoursnow.”
“Doyouregularlyhavesexincommunallivingareas?”
“Well,notanymore.”Basedonhishalfchuckle,Ipictureacharming,tiltedgrinthatcouldmeltthepantiesoffanygivenstraightwoman.“IswearI’lldisinfectthewholekitchen.Thoroughly.”
“Muchappreciated,”Isaygenuinely.It’sniceknowingthesurfaceIeatmyPop-Tartsoverwillbedevoidofbodilyfluids.
Afewbeatsgoby.“So,uh,areyouevergonnacomeoutofthebathroom?”
“Thatdepends.Areyoustillnaked?”
“I’mfullydecent,Iswear.”
Ipressmycheekclosertothedoor,cravingthevibrationsofhisvoice.“Imightstayinherealittlelonger.It’scomfortable.”Thistinyspaceisactuallykindofsoothing,reminiscentofaScandinavianspa.
Hisfootstepsdisappeardownthehall,onlytoreturnafewsecondslater.“IhaveCheetos.Anddon’tworry,Iwashedmyhands.”
Mymouthwatersinstantlyatthetried-and-truesoundofacrunchingbag.Bestillmyheart.Ireachtoturntheknob,openingthedoorwideenoughtomakeagrabby-handsmotionthroughthecrack.He’sstillnotvisible,withtheexceptionofhishandashepassesmethebaglikeadiceydrugdeal.There’salightdustingofashybrownhaironhiswristandknuckles.Hispalmismassive,almosttwicethesizeofmine.Icatchthetailendofadetailed,darkgraytattoointheareabelowhisthumb,butbeforeIcanmakeoutthedesign,hishanddisappearsbehindthedoor.
Starved,Idescendonthebag,rippingitopenlikeanape.Inthespanofunderthreeminutes,I’vedemolishedatleastaquarter.Ashamedofmyblatantgluttony,Islideitbackthroughthecrack.“Sorry,I’vehadatraumaticday.”
Thebagcrunches.“Shit.Becauseofme?”
“No.Mydaywasalreadyawashbeforeyou.”
“Why?”heasks,passingthebagback.
“Todaywassupposedtomarkabrand-newstart.Aturningpointinmylife.ButIgotmuggedonthesubway,”Iadmitthroughacrunch,“byaguywithsomeserioussoulmatepotential.Themeet-cutewasgoingsowelluntilhestolemypurse.”
“Wait,yougotmugged?Andwhat’sameet-cute?”Herepeatsmeet-cuteslowly,likeit’saforeignconcept.IwatchhislargehandreachthroughthecrackfortheCheetos.There’saRomannumeraltattooonhiswrist,partiallyobscuredbyhissleeve.ItakeamentalphotosoIcandecipheritlater.
“Ameet-cuteiswhentwoloveinterestsmeetforthefirsttime,”Irattleoffimpatiently.“Butyes.Igotmugged.Iwasreadingonthesubwaywhenthisguynexttomestartedchattingmeup.Youshouldhaveseenthisguy,Metcalfe.Hewasasnack.Definitelydidn’tlooklikeamugger.Notthatmuggershaveaparticularlook,butyouknowwhatImean…”
WepassthebagbackandforthasIrehashthestoryofNate,fromthatinitialmomentofeyecontacttowhenhejackedmypurse(andallmyhopesanddreams).
“Well,that’sshitluckeitherway,”hesays,sympathetictomyplight.
“Right?I’mstartingtolosehope.EverytimeImeetapotentialman,somethinggoeshorriblywrong.ThelastguyImetthroughafriendseemednormal,untilherequestedphotosofmyfeet.”
“Footfetish?”
“Apparently.Idon’twanttofetish-shame,butIthinkI’mcursed.Todayit’samugging.Tomorrow,probablyakidnapping.Someguywillluremetohiscarwithcandy.I’llgobecauseIlikefreefood.Andhe’lltossmeinthetrunkandsetmybodyonfire.”Igrimaceatthemissedopportunityofflauntingmylatestfavoritenumber,ahigh-neckedpinkdress,inanopen-casketfuneral.I’vealreadyadvisedCrystalofmywishtobeburiedinitandshe’sassuredshe’llmakeithappen.
“Okay,thatgotdarkrealfast.Thisiswhyyoushouldnevertruststrangerswithcandy,”Trevorwarns.
“Technicallyyou’reastrangerwithCheetos,”Iremindhim,fishingarogueCheetofromthefloor.Itossitinthetrashcan